


Burning Souls

by SassyLassy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angels, Blood, Death, Death as a character, Demons, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex in the Open, Vampires, can i say im highly inspired by hellboy, christian mythos, excessive cum, hell creatures, i'm making prototype mercy a character and you cant stop me, touches of gore throughout look out buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 83,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyLassy/pseuds/SassyLassy
Summary: Jamison Fawkes life is thrown into turmoil when a literal demon from Hell itself appears in his life, swearing to protect him. But protect him from what? And who?





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire haunts Jamison's dreams. But is there a reason for it?

Jamison Fawkes had been dreaming of fire his entire life. The flames would rouse him from his sleep, his cries filling the room of his crib as he cried from a fear he couldn't understand. He did not have dreams, for all he saw and felt were the flames. The heat would circle and trap him but never could it touch him, never did he feel the burn of the hungry fire that seemed to want to hurt him. Even if he'd be so bold to reach out to touch the circling flames they would split, parting around his arm, ensuring his survival of the flames.

The flames, terrifying as they were, they weren’t the only thing that haunted his dreams like a ghost firmly connected to his very soul.

Hidden behind the flames, forever just out of full sight, was a face. Over the years it had, gradually, come closer, and closer. The form of the man hidden by shadows that the flames hid with their vast size, and despite the brightness of their blaze. When Jamison had been a child, the face had been far in the distance. Throughout his teens, it was closer that he could just make out the blurry shape of the face. 

Now, as a young man studying in the seminary, Jamison could all but clearly see the face through the flames. Only recently did he realize the face was masculine. A round face, with a strong jaw, broad nose, and powerful eyebrows. Just like the fire, that face and his hidden gaze haunted his dreams. It burned with an intensity that made the very flames seem tame, and lackluster in comparison.

Now it felt as though with each passing night the face grew closer, and closer, even breaching through the flames itself. Jamison swore he could feel the breath of the man breathing down his neck. His presence was strong, aggressive... it was terrifying. Like back when he was a child, the dreams of flames and the ever glaring face was starting to fill his sleep with dread and anxiety.

When at last, one night that he was drenched in sweat as he tossed and turned in his solitary bed, Jamison heard it. A voice as deep as night, as dark as shadows, and as commanding as a Lord from the depths. It sent icicles spiking up his spine, gripped at his heart, and froze it in his chest weighing him down.

“ _Found you._ ”

And just like when he was a child, Jamison bolted upright in his bed, fear clutching at his very soul and tears streaming down his eyes. Sweat ran down his forehead and neck, nerves choked him into silence despite how badly he wanted to scream or at least cry out. But he found himself unable to do either, he sat frozen, drenched in his sweat, his fear suffocating him.

Lord help him.


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story officially begins. Jamison is studying to become one with the Church but his grades aren't the best. His faith is failing him. Nightmares plague him and he finds no relief. 
> 
> And that's just the start of it.

"--so even though I been doin' my best, Father, it just. It won't stop. It gets worse. Every day I dread goin' to bed and no matter how much you tell me to pray it away it ain't. God ain't helpin' me, Father. I don't know what to do, I just don't know."

Jamison sat there, in the large, ornamental room of the good Father James. The man was, to put it simply, was a grandiose individual. He was the voice of the church, the head, the Father, the one who made the decisions and made the calls and his face reflected this. His expression was set in a somewhat almost permanent judging frown, and Jamison couldn't recall a time he'd ever seen him smile beyond when he gave sermons welcoming new sheep to the flock.

The man reached over to pick up his cup of tea, pinkie out, and brought it to his lips where he exhaled on the slowly climbing trail of heat. It dispersed instantly, and he took a small sip of the tea before putting it back down on the table.

"...do you think God's testin' me, Father?" Jamison asked after an even longer pause between the two of them.

Father James lifted his gaze to an enamored cross that hung above the doorway in which Jamison had entered, before looking to the young man. There he was, twenty five years old and looked twice his age. The young man was tall, scrawny, with eyes that tended to bug out on his best days and the kind of face only a mother and God himself could love. 

"Jamison, you coming to us was a gift of God." he spoke levelly, a voice that commanded and demanded attention. "We found you half dead after the Omnium eruption in the outback. You could have died, if not for the Grace of God and the miracles worked upon you by His hands and the doctors, you would no longer be. With nowhere to go, you came here with us. Your own choice, for you had no family. No name. No memories." Father James linked his fingers together, resting his hands on the grand oak desk. 

"Why do you believe the good Lord would be testing you, harder than He would test your brothers and sisters?" he asked. "It can't be because of your failing grades. It can't be because of your dwindling lack of faith I see on your face. Surely not, for His challenges facing you continue still with that illness you carry. A gift from the demons who destroyed so much of our home. You face it, surely, Jamison. Every day?" 

"E-every day." Jamison answered anxiously. So what if he wasn't the best at his lessons and classes? So what if he got just barely passing grades? He was still here, wasn't he? Not like he had anywhere else to go. He'd even taken on a whole new name coming here, to the Church and following. Afterall, how many people did you meet with the name 'Jamison'?

Father James sighed again. "Put your faith in the Lord, Jamison and your fears and these dreams of yours will surely end. After all, dreams cannot harm you."

He knew that, of course he did, but it didn't stop the fear from gripping him. Jamison stood to his feet and bowed his head, looking down at the thick, rich carpet underfoot. “Thank you, Father.”

“Go, and be at peace my son.”

Be at peace. Easier said than done. Jamison made his way out of the elaborately decorated office and made his way down the stone steps, and exited out onto the pulpit of the Church of the Good Saints. The raised platform was a mix of stone, and wood. Behind him on the wall was a giant glass window, ornate and beautiful, with a glass cut image of Jesus on the cross and light shining down, and through, him. Drapes hung down between every window, displaying words of virtue and other such things.

As he stepped down past some pews, he stopped and spotted someone else here in the church. Like many churches of the world, there were altars. One covered with candles that were lit when people came to give prayer, to light one in remembrance of someone who was lost. And in a world still licking its wounds from a terrifying war, there were many candles. The woman by the candles, cleaning off the excess wax, had her back to Jamison.

But he knew her. How could he not know the woman who’d partly raised him?

“Sister Fawkes.” He had to smile as he approached her, glad for a friendly face after speaking with Father James.

The woman, aged and wrinkled, turned her head to look at him. She smiled. “Jamison. Talking with the Father again I see.”

She hadn’t seen. She just knew. Sister Fawkes had a way of knowing things like this. “Ehh...”

“About those dreams again?”

“Nightmares.” He replies, frowning, looking down at his feet. “S’what they are. Ain’t dreams. Never had good dreams.”

“I’m sorry.” Sister Fawkes smiled apologetically. “But let me guess. He gave you the same spiel. That it is the Lord testing you. Nothing more, nothing less, keep your faith strong and He will reward you as He did others He has tested?”

“You’re too good at knowin’ this guy.” Jamison has to smile, it’d be illegal if he didn’t.

“Well I have known him far longer than you.” She pointed out before collecting her cleaned away wax into a small bin and began to walk down the pews, making sure the pamphlets were in their right place by the seats right besides the isles. “You can’t let his harsh words get to you, Jamison. He tries his best in these trying times.”

Jamison frowned a little. “...more missing people?” 

She nodded her head. “In the newspaper this morning. Seven people missing in the past three weeks. People are suspecting foul play, possibly a murderer or they are being abducted somewhere. Everybody is on edge. People need the Church and their faith right now. He is under stress.” 

Sister Fawkes exited into the entrance way where a large statue of the Virgin Mary stood behind secure glass. This felt somehow symbolic to Jamison. There was Faith, your God, however separated from you by glass. Cut off. He stood for a moment to stare at the serene face of the woman, draped in her blue flowing clothes, a downcast look as a heart hovered in front of her breast. Jamison never liked that; how some statues had their hearts on the outside. It looked off putting.

It reminded him of things a child shouldn’t have seen.

“Jamison?” She’d come to a stop by the door, looking at him as he stood there staring at the statue. He was becoming so distant lately. The little boy without a leg who’d clung to her the first few weeks she’d been with him was no longer that little boy. Where he was heading though, she did not know. 

“Huh?” Jamison turned his head around, looking to her.

“...I need you to go to the shelter today. Well, Father James does. A bit of a delivery, can you manage?” She asked.

He, of course, agreed. A delivery meant pamphlets to deliver to the homeless shelter. Asking if they’d found God, if God could aid them in their rough times. Letting them know that the Church offered support and a place to find your faith and maybe get a few hot meals if you were extra good. 

This meant getting onto his push bike and riding through town. Hands gripping the handle bars, box tied to the back of his bike, Jamison rode his way down the street. It was dark already. He’d studied hard that day, hard as he could, theorizing this, arguing that, and had gone to see the Father only after it was all done. His talk with him had gone far longer than he thought it would.

So here he was, dressed in black trousers, black shirt, black belt, black tie, black shoes, riding on a black bike with the sunlight long since gone over the horizon. The shelter never shut, of course, so there’d be someone there waiting for this delivery. The only thing of colour about him was his hair, and that was blond and falling out due to the effects of the radiation he’d been subjected to as a child.

Even with all the medicine and support he got, the disease hadn’t been shaken loose of him entirely yet. He suffered phantom pains from his missing right leg from above the knee and while he was grateful for the black prosthetic he had, he still sometimes preferred to be without it. But who’d want to be seen by a Priest with a missing leg? How would he kneel to pray? With difficulty most like, in their eyes.

He stopped at a red light, though he felt it was silly since there wasn’t any traffic. Glancing left, and right, Jamison paused before he kicked off his bike and rode through the red light. A small grin crossed his face as he did, the bike continuing along its path and began to ride down a small slope. Running a red light, really Jamison? What would Father say.

“Who cares!” Jamison said aloud, before he burst into his high pitched, somewhat hysteric, like laughter. His fellow students said he laughed like a laughing hyena and he took that as a compliment. 

That’s when his bike hit a stone and he almost lost balance on the bike completely. He kicked down and dug his feet down into the ground to stop his momentum, the bike skidding beneath him. Jamison wheezed, shaking his head, as he looked around, then up. What was that, instant karma for running a red light on a bike? Surely God had more important things to worry about, like Cancer, homelessness, and other such things.

Something large suddenly knocked all of the wind out of Jamison. He was thrown off of the street, hit the pavement and rolled a few times before coming to a painful stop. What had hit him? There hadn’t been a car coming, there’d been no rumbling of engines or screech of tires. Coughing weakly, Jamison tried to get to his feet but was tossed again, once more something slamming into him and he was thrown against a chain link fence.

His eyes managed to open and he looked up; what he saw was something like a human. Only it was very big, with burning white eyes, and a mouth that fell open far wider than a human’s mouth should. Opening his mouth to scream, Jamison found himself incapable of it. His energy was draining, his heart was racing fast enough to burst free of his chest just like those statues of Mary and Jesus, and he felt his life begin to burn around him like those flames in his nightmares.

The darkness of the world engulfed him but the pain he’d been expecting did not come. A scream that was not his filled the night air and when his eyes tore open he saw the being that had been towering over him being pinned to the ground by... a man?

His face was hidden, as was much of him. But from what Jamison could tell was he was big. Really big, weight, and height wise. One massive hand was around the creature's throat, pinning it down against the ground as it whined and struggled. A long limb reached out, desperately to scratch but it too was pinned but not by anything visible. There was a terrible ripping, tearing sound, and the arm was off and thrown aside like some discarded garbage.

Black ooze dripped where blood would.

“P-please,” The creature struggled to speak, “I-I--”

“ **Shut. Up.** ”

Two syllables and Jamison felt his skin immediately crawl as if fit to leap off of his body. It cemented a fear deep within that shook to his core and if he had the strength he would have bolted. But he couldn’t, his energy still all but gone, the best thing he could do was watch from his crumpled place against the chain link fence as this tall, large man pinned a beast of shadow and teeth as if it were nothing.

And that’s when he changed. The blackness surrounding him seemed to open, unfold, and one mouth became three, two eyes became six, wings with open unblinking eyes filled the space of what Jamison could see and that’s when he blacked out at last. 

He welcomed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this ball rolling guys; I hope this chapter makes up for it. The next one shouldn't be too far away I hope!


	3. Hard Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamison awakens to discover some shocking truths about the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys dig monstrous demons from Hell cuz that's what you're getting.

When he awoke he was in a cold sweat. It was not unlike how he normally awoke but, this time, there hadn’t been nightmares plaguing his sleep. But would passing out from shock really be considered sleep? Had it really happened, or was his mind finally crumbling and breaking? Jamison didn’t know, just like how he didn’t know where he was right now.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and groaned, he felt dizzy and weak, as if a good gust of wind would knock him over like a leaf. Despite this he kept himself sitting, head buzzing, and body aching. The floor beneath him was smooth and flat, cool to the touch of his hands as they curled against it, fighting to keep him propped up.

That’s when he got the sense that he was not alone. Even if he couldn’t see them, he could feel the presence of someone, something, very big near him. Eyes were watching him, burning into his very soul and he had to shudder and twitch as he turned his head in an attempt at seeing whoever, or whatever, this was.

It was a man. He was stood within arm's reach of him. And he was a towering man, to say the least and that's saying something. Jamison himself was over six feet tall, but this man seemed to even push beyond that. He was heavy set, with a large gut, and thick arms that looked like they could snap someone’s neck if he felt so inclined. Large hands hung by his sides, and his widespread legs were clad in black trousers. In fact, he was dressed entirely in black from head to foot.

His hair was silver, as was his eyebrows and the fuzz that travelled along his rounded, double chinned jaw line. Thick lips were set in a downwards scowl, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses. He looked like a security guard, or something like it.

“You’re awake.”

His voice was familiar, but Jamison didn’t want to think about where it was familiar from. He drew in closer to himself, his orange eyes set on this hulking man.

“...did that. Did that really happen?” Jamison asked, quietly, not even recognizing his voice by the tremble in his words.

“That thing?” the man asked.

“Y... yeah. He... It...” he trailed off a moment, trying to process what had just happened. It felt like a dream, not that he had any experience in the things. All his dreams had been nightmares, and every single one plagued by fire and an approaching face. “Pinned me and... tried to...”

“Drain your energy.”

Head spinning like mad all over again, Jamison slumped down onto the floor. “Gimmie a minute here mate feels like my head’s about to crack open.”

“Hmm.”

So here he lay on the floor in an abandoned building somewhere downtown, his bike twisted in the corner and pamphlets no doubt scattered to the winds when he’d been bowled over. And a stranger standing here telling him that yes, what he just witnessed is very much a real thing and he was recovering from almost having his energy drained.

“...what woulda happened, if you hadn’t...”

“You’d be dead and no body would have been found. Ever.”

Jamison suddenly sat bolt upright, body screaming at him in protest, and he spun his head around to look at the man. “You know ‘bout those people missing?” he asks.

Silence.

“Those people--they got family! Friends! If you know somethin’ you gotta tell the police, they--”

“Oh yes?” the man suddenly moved forward, the world seeming to quake under the weight of his feet. “And what would I tell them, Jamison Fawkes? That there are beings from before humanity was even a thought bleeding out from the depths of Hell to feed and eat where they shouldn’t? Like scurrying rats escaping a burning building to find a food source waiting just for them? How, praytell, would I do that without sounding like a madman?”

“Hell?” Jamison asks.

“Hell. You should know about it,” a big, thick finger is suddenly thrusted into his face, almost touching his nose but not just. “You’re studying it. How ironic, that I find you and you’re in this life, at this time.” the man suddenly laughs, a bitter, biting, sarcastic laugh that has his large stomach shake with every heave of laughter. It ends abruptly, and he sighs heavily through his nose. “What a Hell of a joke.”

“...who are you...?” he almost regretted the question as soon as he spoke it, and wished he could take it back. Jamison didn’t want to know this man, he felt that he shouldn’t, yet with the same breath he felt as if he had, and he did. “How do you know my name?”

Again, there is silence.

“That is a long story and not one you’re ready to hear. What you need is to get back home. Or... back to the church.” the man reaches for him but Jamison, body still protesting, backs away like a scared lamb. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How do I know that?” Jamison asked, voice shaking, eyes wide. “Comin’ in here, talkin’ bout demons and Hell and knowing my name! You--you...”

It was now that his memory finally decided to give him a small gift, a boon you could say. The face towering over him, staring down at him with an intensity that got past those glasses that concealed the stranger’s eyes, Jamison knew this face. He’d been seeing it all his life in his nightmares as it had slowly gotten closer, and closer to him. It was that face, the same shape, the nose, the lips, but even in his nightmares the man’s eyes had been shadowed and hidden. Impossible to read.

He screamed, lifted his prosthetic foot, and slammed it into the the man in an attempts to get away from him. Jamison may as well have kicked at the Great Wall of China because this man was not moving. He didn’t even flinch. But Jamison still fought, turning over and trying to stand and put some distance between himself and the man. He lurched forward, felt as if his dinner was about to make a reappearance, before he tripped over a box.

The box tipped, and the contents spilled over the floor. The pamphlets. Without a dent or a crease in any of them. And his bike, now that he was closer to it, that too was without a scratch. No dented wheels, no spokes out of place. Like new. Everything was unscratched. Eyes wide he turned his head, slowly, to look upon the face of the man who had followed him silently along the floor.

“...j... just tell me... what do you want...? What do you WANT with me?” Jamison asked, at last, a question that had been burning him for as long as he could remember. For this had to be him, that face in the flames slowly growing closer now he was here. Close enough to touch.

There he stood, the man built of mystery and muscle. His large hands curled into fists against his sides, but they relaxed. Lips parting, he paused to lick at them with a tongue that may or may not have been forked.

“I’m here to protect you. What am I? I’m a Duke of The Sixth Circle of Hell in the House of the Fallen Kokabiel Himself and my goal is to keep you, Jamison Fawkes, safe.”

Jamison sat there for a moment longer, before suddenly pushing himself up to his feet. Head spinning, he staggered back a bit. “Oh, oh yeah, really?” he asked, “And I’m supposed to just believe anything you say? Yeah?” his face was burning red now, hair a messy, sweaty unkempt tangle atop his head. “A Duke of Hell, right, sure! I totally believe ya mate, totally. Now if you excuse me I gotta hop on my broom and fly home, Kay?" he asked before attempting to make his way to his bike.

The man spoke, his voice sounding far louder, and powerful, than a human voice would be capable of. " _DON'T YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, HOLY CHILD_." Jamison swore the ground trembled on his behalf, his leg and fake one feeling weak and unsteady. He turned to see the man standing where he'd left him, his stance now very aggressive. Fists formed, legs spread, and an anger on his face that could melt iron. "I have spent almost one thousand years awaiting this moment and you are NOT walking away from this."

The black suit on his body suddenly rippled. Not like clothing would when there was a particularly strong gust of wind on a windy day, but like it was very much alive. It appeared to melt, before peeling back and off of his skin before morphing and shifting into an incredibly large set of black wings. Like in the alley way, eyes erupted from the blackness of the wings, and they travelled along where the bones of the wings would be.

Jamison felt his stomach empty out inside of him as even more of the man continued to change. The glasses that hid his eyes had fallen away, and two eyes once again split into six. This had been the point that he’d fainted the last time but now he stood, transfixed, horrified as the head split into three different directions and not only that, but they shifted appearance also. What had once been a single mans head had become three distinct heads belonging to three different creatures.

The head on his right shoulder was a wolf, fur as white and bright as snow. Its teeth gleamed and drool pooled from its open mouth, its jet black eyes locked on Jamison, its ears brought forward in a clearly curious, if not excited, manner. On the left shoulder was the head of a horse, the sheen of its coat black as coal, a mane that matched the blackness and billowed in a breeze that Jamison could not feel. It too, like the wolf, had its gaze fixed on the poor man. But it wasn’t just two sets of eyes on him but a third, the centre head that was that of a boar. Curved tusks erupted from its open mouth, its coarse fur brown and scratchy looking.

At some point the lower half of the man had changed as well, where there were feet were now hooves on dark brown fur that matched the colour of the boars’ head. The weight of the three heads brought him down, large hands now with black claws slammed onto the ground to support his upper body. All throughout this the three sets of eyes remained locked in him. When he, it, moved forward the heaviness in his steps were familiar; Jamison had felt them as he had moved while in that human body.

His legs finally worked and he bolted backwards, tripped over himself and fell flat onto his back. He backed up, heels pushing against the floor as he tried to put a distance between himself and this thing that had no right to be a living, breathing creature. His back hit the wall and he yelped, the tree heads now so close he could smell their collective, hot breath against his face.

“You are awake.” the voice was deep, dark, something you wouldn't want to hear at any point in your life. “This is real.”

A wolf's nose flared, a hog’s ear twitches, and a horse lifts its lips to reveal its teeth. Blinking wings opened outwards, surveying the area, looking all around, as well as right at him. Eyes everywhere.

“I am Duke Roh’Dhog,” no lips spoke the words but Jamison heard every syllable as it was spoken. “And I repeat... I am here to protect you.”

“...permission to throw up?” Jamison asked weakly.

A wolf bared its sharp teeth. “Permission granted.”


	4. No Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan as Jamison's home is attacked.

The weather had turned sour, thick black clouds hung in the skies blotting out the stars and even the brightness of the moon was dulled and muted by the darkness. Street lights just barely lit the way, and Jamison had his knuckles so tightly clenched on the bikes handles they were as white as the snow he’d never seen fall in his life. All things considered, what he had just learned, and witnessed, he was managing fairly well. He was still walking, still breathing, the world continued to spin and demons were a real thing.

And one was walking alongside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Of course, he had done the decent thing and shifted from that monstrous, hideous three headed creature of nightmare and death into something far more presentable. He walked, hands in his pockets, sunglasses hiding his eyes despite the darkness of the night, his footsteps long and heavy and Jamison swore he felt the world tremble under every thud of his feet.

“...so this is it, is it?” he asked, breaking the silence at last, jerking his head to look up at the tall, white haired man. “You gonna just follow me ‘round till my dying day is that it?”

He didn’t get an answer, probably because he was being hysterically stupid in his questions. But this did not cease his mouth from running itself.

“What, you gonna come with me into the restroom? What ‘bout any other private moments I might’ve had in me life? Am I gonna have to explain you being around every second of the day for the rest of my life?”

Finally the Duke snorted in bemusement, steam emitting from his flared nostrils. “Idiot.” was all he said before he continued to walk.

Jamison didn’t know what to say to that. How does one actually verbally assault a demon, any way? Insult his mother? Bless him? Throw holy water onto him? Wait. Would that work in getting rid of him? They were about to walk on Holy Ground and it was known that demonic presences couldn’t set foot on Holy Ground at all. He’d be stuck outside, maybe he would even be sent back to Hell the second they walk through the gates of the Church! Jamison had never felt so excited about the prospect of going home again, even if he’d never really considered the place home.

More like jail. Three meals a day, an uncomfortable mattress, and doing things he didn’t want to do. All the other young men around him so eager to take up the cause, pick up a bible, spout the good word of the Lord Almighty but Jamison? He just wanted out. Not that he’d ever admit that, doing that, claiming he had no faith like his good Father James and Mother Fawkes had hoped would break them. 

While he could care less about the old man, the idea of upsetting Mother Fawkes made him hesitate. She was the nicest person in his life and disappointing her felt like the biggest sin in the book.

“You can’t read minds can you?” Jamison asked suddenly, looking to the ‘man’ besides him.

“...no. No demon can do that.” he replied, slowly, as if calculating what his answer would result in. “Why, did you think I was listening in on your thoughts?”

“No. Course not.” okay, maybe a little. But the big guy didn’t need to know that.

The Duke chuckled a deep, rumbling chuckle that was thick and dark as shadows. Jamison internally shuddered at the sound; even if it was a light hearted laugh it had sounded so ominous and dangerous. This was not someone to trifle with, so the fact Jamison was leading back to the church and by extension Holy Ground, he really hoped whatever would happen would happen fast. 

Finally the two turned a corner and there stood the church, the school, the stone walls that surrounded the property and the huge wrought iron gate that was open. Around this time, though, normally it would be closed. He wondered if whoever was asked to close it would get in trouble, before realizing he’d be the one in trouble for getting back so late and without having delivered the pamphlets. Swearing mentally Jamison walked his bike in and through the gate, doing his best to not turn his head to see what was about to happen to the demon.

Would he erupt into a ball of flames? Melt? Explode? Ooh, he hoped it was the latter. That sounded cool. Even if it may be bloody. 

The Duke didn’t even hesitate, he walked over the threshold and... nothing. He walked his usual powerful gait, hands firmly lodged in his pockets, thick lips pulled downwards in a judging scowl. No fire, no shining of light, no sudden eruption from the inside out, absolutely nothing. Jamison stared, wide eyed, before dropping his bike as he lifted his hands to gesture wildly around his head. “What the Hell!”

“What?” the Duke looked to him, finally coming to a stop.

“We’re at a CHURCH. This here, mate,” he crouched, slapping his right hand down on the pavement. “Holy Ground! You ain’t, you’re not meant to be able to--”

He smiled, widely. Pure white teeth gleamed in the darkness as he smiled at him. “You don’t believe. There is a severe lack of Faith here. So I can walk where I want. I could even go up along the pews and drink your Holy Water with a straw.” the Duke leaned in close, and for a fraction of a second Jamison swore he had the three animal heads gazing down at him with their piercing, digging gazes. “I go where I please.”

Even in this darkness, Jamison could feel the heavy shadow of the demon smother his very being. But he fought back his instincts to cower or step back, instead he stood his ground and stared right back into those eyes unflinching. Well, mostly unflinching. He may have trembled a little. The man standing over him, gazing down at him with an unblinking eye, slowly smiled before snorting. The breath was hot against his skin, like a boiling kettle that had steam coming out of its spout.

But his demeanour changed from pompous asshole to alert in less than a second. He placed a large hand on Jamison’s shoulder and drew him closer to him, then easily maneuvered him as if he were a light feather, and moved him behind his hulking form. His lips pulled back to show his teeth and it was at that point he smelt it; a rich, copper smell that was familiar to the young man from a time long since past.

Blood.

“What’s-” he started but stopped short.

He had smelled it, but then he saw it. There was blood trailing down past the pews towards the pulpit. Hand prints grasped at the wooden pews as they trailed but where they ended he couldn’t see. Not yet, at least. The altar was untouched, at least at first glance. Whatever could be wrong in the area was flooded out and shadowed when something large suddenly erupted from behind it, the sheer size of the gaseous looking form filling up the wall. It didn’t have a face, there were no eyes, or mouth, yet Jamison could feel it looking at them both.

Then it exploded. There was no blood, no gore, just gas, but there were shapes in that gas. The shapes were there and quick and slithered like snakes through the air, which made Jamison’s skin crawl. It split in several different directions, each one starting to screech an ungodly sound that reverberated within the church. 

Just like before, The Duke’s clothing rippled before ripping away and his whole form transformed. It was just as grisly looking as the last time, how the clothing became flesh, and fur, not to mention how the human head split in three different ways which swiftly mutated into animal heads in less than a second. The wings on his back opened up, one moving and pushing at Jamison roughly enough to toss him back against the nearest wall. The Duke roared, stretching his wings out as far as he could, before he charged at the swirling masses.

Staggering back against the wall, Jamison felt his breath catch in his throat tight enough he might choke and suffocate on his own breath. He could hear the fight but he couldn’t look at it; his eyes were trained on the blood that stained the pews. Was it one person? Or multiple? There weren’t any choir practices tonight so the sudden terrifying thought of children being killed by this thing, in a church of all places, was instantly wrong. But who else would be up at this time? Fear began to rise in his stomach, the taste of it was that of bile, and it only got thicker and richer as he made his way towards where the blood was thicker, fresher.

Just as the body of the person came into view, a black form is suddenly thrown in front of him. Jamison jumps back in fright and shock, his back hitting one of the pews and it knocks the wind out of him, throwing him to the ground. For a horrifying second the black form is atop of him, swirling and tendrils lashed out from the snake like shape and wrapped itself around one of his arms. That’s when a silver hook rushed out from seemingly nowhere, embedded itself somehow in the gaseous form. It shrieked out loud, the cry piercing Jamison’s ears, before it was ripped away from him and out of sight.

Where had the hook come from? He didn’t know, he didn’t care, not with the wind knocked out of him and his heart racing so fast within his chest it felt ready to leap out of his rib cage. There was so much noise, how wasn’t everyone not rushing in to see the source of it? Father James? Mother Fawkes? Even his classmates, those he bunks with, none of them were here. Good, in some sense, but worrying in the other. What if this wasn’t the only trail of blood here? What if there was more? 

He suddenly remembered the blood and a rush of purpose pushed him to his feet and he staggered forward, a shaking hand reaching out to grip the wall unknowingly trailing his fingers through the still drying blood. The noise of the fight around him seemed to fall into the background, as if someone were turning the volume down on a surround system, leaving nothing but a ringing sensation in his ears as he finally reached the body and his stomach plummeted into his very being as he saw blood soaking through a familiar black dress. 

Mother Fawkes was sprawled on the ground like a thrown toy. Her legs at odd angles, one arm out stretched, the other gripping against her chest. Eyes open, face pale and white as the collar of her gown that had once been white, but was now stained with her own blood. His legs trembled but he surged forward, slamming his knees into the ground as he reached out to her but it felt as if he couldn’t reach her. Pale blue eyes met his own and her expression shifted from panic to recognition. She smiled a shaking, weak attempt at him before she lifted the hand that was gripping at her chest to reach out to him. He took her hand but the moment their hands touched hers dropped and hit the floor, leaving her rosary beads in his hand.

_“Now this rosary is very special.” Mother Fawkes said one Sunday evening, while Jamison was helping her with the dishes._

_“Why’s that?” he asked, eyeing the beaded necklace she wore. It looked no different to any other rosary he saw. There were the beads, the cross with Christ hanging on it. Sure the beads were a reddish tint, but that was the only difference he saw._

_“These were blessed by a Pope.” she explains. “My great aunt was a Nun, and she was blessed enough to meet Pope Francis. You remember him, don’t you?”_

_“Yeah! He’s the guy who would sneak out to do stuff after the church closed!” he remembered him. He’d learned about a fair number of popes, but that guy sounded like a nice guy. All Popes are nice, of course, but he sounded extra nice._

_“Mmhm. He would dress as a regular priest and go out to help homeless people. Bringing them food, blankets, even cleaning their feet sometimes. He was a good kind man and my great aunt asked him to bless her mother's rosary and he did. That is why this one is so special.” she patted the cross affectionately, a gesture he’d see her do so many times a day._

Now it was in his hands. The reddish rosary, now red with her blood as she laid there on the floor in a pool of her own blood, the life now gone from her eyes. No final words. No reassurance. He couldn’t even hold her in her dying moments or offer words of comfort. It felt as if his chest was on fire, or more like his whole soul was burning, as hot wet tears streamed down his face. He wanted to reach down to touch her but he felt like he had no right to; she was too good. So kind and good and she’d always been kind and loving towards him. Even when he’d mess up, when he’d fail classes, or be a stupid clumsy fool she was always there and she deserved better. So, so much better than bleeding out in the very church she called home, alone. Why did it have to be him to find her? He felt so useless, so lost.

There was a loud scream that finally broke through the bubble that seemed to have formed around Jamison and his head jerked up to see the two demons locked against a wall. The slithering creature had apparently regrouped itself after splitting off, and even if he couldn’t see it physically he had a feeling it was very hurt. The Duke, meanwhile, had his wings extended out, all three of those monstrous animal heads had their lips bared to show off sharp teeth. His massive claws were pinning it to the wall, hooves digging into the ground, keeping balance and giving him support in keeping his stance sure and steady.

“Drop the act.” the Duke snarled around pure white teeth. “Show your face.”

The other beast spluttered, laughed through its pain, before almost instantly the slithering mass was gone and replaced with a man. His eyes were black as coal, his clothing just as black. Jamison stared in unblinking silence, and rage, as the face of the man was immediately recognized. 

“That’s not your face.” the Duke snarled, “You stole it.”

“Got me there,” Father James spluttered, black blood pooling out of his mouth. “Gotta admit it’s pretty nice though...”

“How long?” demands the Duke, the wolf head incredibly close to the man’s face, drool dripping from its snarling, bared maw. It looked like it could quite easily ripped the flesh from his face in a seconds notice.

Father James or, rather, whatever it was wearing his face, looked thoughtful for a moment. “Two months? Give or take?”

The ears of the horse twitched, and it snorted before its gaze moved to Jamison where he sat by the crumpled body of the woman. Eyes gazed upon the sight before it looked back to the man. “Have fun, then?”

“Oh tons.” he smiled toothily, before grunting in pain as the hand around his throat tightened and he was pushed against the wall, now being lifted up off of the floor entirely. Now the smug look turned to one of growing panic. He began to shift again, his form changing to a darker mist, only this time instead of snake like forms literal snakes began to form out of his dark mist. One was bigger, longer, and thicker than the others. Glowing red eyes lit up the darkness and it opened its jaw wide as if to strike but it never got the chance.

Jamison couldn’t remember his feet moving. He couldn’t remember the hand now wrapped in the bloodied rosary beads, passing the baptismal font long enough to reach in and grab the removable bowl from inside it. The water spilled, splashing, and in a rage the young man had never felt before had him throw the contents onto the body of the man who he thought was the good Father James. The water hit him, the effects were almost immediate as smoke erupted off of him. In the shock of the moment, the Duke leaped backwards in shock, and the coiling snake struck forward and it wrapped itself around Jamison’s outstretched right arm. The arm was doused in the holy water, his hand still gripping the rosary, and the snake screamed a cry no snake would ever be able to make. It began to melt to nothing and the pain was beyond anything Jamison had ever felt in his life. Nothing could be compared to this burning that coiled up his arm.

The Duke grabbed at the burning arm, smoke starting to come up off of his own hand but he pulls back, yanking what remains of the snake off of him. Jamison crumpled to the floor, grabbing at his burning hand as flames and smoke continued to coil up off of it as the skin on his arm was literally burning off before his eyes yet there was no blood, not even muscle. Just black, and swirls of gold and red. 

Dropping the snake to the ground, the Duke turns and lashes out with his claws. He catches at the crumbling, dying demon as more smoke continued to pool off of him. His claws retract with thick black sludge as the demon who wore the face of Father James seemed to melt there and then. Flesh pooled and melted off of muscles and bones before only a filthy black smear showed that there had ever been a man standing there. The snake remained on the ground motionless, red eyes gazing. It doesn’t remain there for long, as the Duke reaches down and rips it up, and it begins to vanish from sight within his very grasp. As it does, he begins to transform back into a human being. Unlike before the transformation takes longer, the three heads melting back into one human one, and his clothes to replace the skin and fur.

His wings were the last to go, folding up around him before shrinking and vanishing into nothing. 

He moves to Jamison who’s still knelt on the ground, holding his arm, mouth open in a silent scream as he watched his arm. The pain had already subsided, yet the skin still remained missing, replaced with a blackened cover with red and gold hues that shimmered like drying paint. Large eyes moved from his arm to the Duke, back to his arm, before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.

“ _Shit._ ” 

He could sense the protective shield the lesser demon had thrown up. So he enhanced it, ensuring sounds from within the church wouldn’t be heard outside. Simple shit he could do without thinking. Looking to the crumpled young man, the Duke moved towards him and knelt down besides him. Reaching out his large hands trailed the shape of his face, before pressing his hand to his chest. He was still breathing, still alive... looking down at that arm though, he hadn’t seen anything like that before. How was it that the holy water had worked? If that worked, how was he still capable of walking here? He didn’t understand it, and not knowing was more than a little concerning. He had learned many things in his hundreds of years and life so to come across something he couldn’t understand. For now though, he had a body to dispose of and a church to clean. He would take as long as necessary, because as long as Jamison was alive, he knew he’d be fine.

Least he got a new part out of the whole mess. A new status symbol was worth more than its weight, after all.


	5. Monster Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamison is probably going to get a strong case of whiplash by how much he's being jerked around right now. And what the HELL is that thing coming out of the sky??

The warmth of the sun basked down upon him, and Jamison slowly grew steadily aware of his location. He was laying down, flat on his back, arms and legs out stretched as if he was making snow angels. But he wasn’t anywhere familiar, the scent in the air was nothing like the smell of smooth stone and wood that he knew from the church. It was far more open, and smelt of... wheat? He thinks? He can’t recall smelling the scent of wheat in his entire life.

Sitting up he felt the scratching of wheat against his clothing and skin, his eyes opened to be greeted by blinding light. Squinting his eyes to block most of the harsh sun, Jamison staggers as he pushes himself up to his feet. He steps back a little, feet uneven on the earthy ground that was ruptured by the stalks of golden wheat that grew up to his waist.

Looking around he lifts his hand to cover his eyes but stops, turning his head and stares at his poor arm. The skin was... gone? Or just coloured? It looked like a rich black skin you would think of when you think of candy coating on a chocolate. It gleamed in the light, the rays bouncing off of it, giving it a sheen of red and gold. He stared at it, unable to comprehend, not even acknowledging his nails had vanished from his hand before the light around him burned brighter still.

Finally he lifted his head higher still. The wheatfield he found himself stuck in stretched on for what felt like eternity. The wheat gently swayed in a breeze he himself could not feel; despite how hot, and warm the area felt he himself felt cold to his core. Like someone huddling for warmth during a bitter storm. 

“Where...” Jamison’s voice echoed outwards, and when he turned his head to look right, and left, as his eyes settled on the distant horizon he saw two figures standing a good distance away from him. “Hey...!” he began to walk forward, but it seemed as though walking through this field was not like one would imagine. The wheat felt far stronger than ordinary wheat would; it did not bend or budge as he tried to push through them. Walking felt like fighting to keep his footing, to make distance. 

But he still tried. So he slogged through the wheat, trying to catch up to the two figures but they seemed to be quite capable of walking through the field without the hindrance he was facing. He gritted his teeth, frowning, as he pushed now moving his arms to keep his momentum going. “HEY!” he shouted louder, his voice echoing sharply into the warm air.

One of the figures stopped and seemed to look back at him but he couldn’t make out any of their features beyond long hair that rippled in the wind he couldn’t feel. A blurry arm raised itself and it waved towards him while the second figure finally turned to look but remained motionless. 

Wait a second.

Those heights, even from here, seemed familiar. The build of the person waving contrasting with the slender, tall build of the other...

Realization struck him and just as he was about to cry out to the two people the brightness of the sun in the sky increased so brightly he could no longer see them. The wheat field bled into the white light and Jamison staggered backwards onto his back once more but he did not hit the ground. Instead he fell through the dirt, clear through the mass he would normally hit and he kept falling. He fell into darkness, the wind he couldn’t feel before now rushing up to greet him as it pushed up against his back as he fell.

He fell farther than he thought he would, and as he felt something coming up to greet him he heard singing. Quite possibly the most beautiful singing he’d ever heard in his life; and he’d heard choirs singing almost every other Sunday and the nights they practiced in the church. This song, whatever it was, the quality and pitch and tone was above and beyond comprehension.

It grew louder surprisingly fast and suddenly Jamison felt his back hit a solid surface and his eyes bugged open as he felt the air knocked out of his lungs with the force.

“FUCK!”

“Are priests allowed to swear like that?” a familiar voice asked as his world spun around his head.

World spinning, Jamison threw himself onto his side, his head and chest aching. “A-ain’t a priest yet...” he wheezed.

A low chuckle from a mass that slowly came into focus. The Duke sitting there in all his human glory, the black suit, the sunglasses that hid his eyes, but this time those big, black, powerful wings were out stretched. Were they forming a protective shield around him? Why? The many eyes that were strung along the wings blinked in and out of unison, multiple irises looking him over while others looked in any which way direction they so wanted. It was unnerving.

“...” he suddenly remembered, and the dizziness turned to sadness. His eyes slip shut, but the tears refused to fall, instead choosing to turn his face a faint shade of red. “They’re dead. Both of them.”

“You’re smart.” the Duke replied with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “There was nothing we could do for them.”

Jamison lifted his remaining good hand and slammed it down onto the ground, chest burning. “Is this your fault?” he asks, voice beginning to grow tight in his throat. “Did he show his... his face cuz you were around? Is this because of you?”

The Duke snorted noisily as his wings stretched out slowly. “He was here long before I found you. Playing with his food. Pathetic, really. Made a stupid choice and he paid for it.”

“But they’re both dead.”

“People die, Jamison.” he turns his head, looking down at the man dressed in black, his eyes darting to scope out the damage to his left arm. 

He watched the man lay there, clothing stained in blood, expression one of loss and he began to open his mouth to say something before the very walls began to quake. Both shot up in alarm, the Duke throwing his wings out further still, his mouth falling open in a savage showing of his (now) pointed teeth and he growled. Jamison, alarmed as he was, almost looked utterly defeated. “Oh what NOW?”

“Shit.” the demon reached and grabbed Jamison in one of his hands and dragged him against his chest. Jamison had barely a second to respond before the ground beneath him suddenly fell away. There was a rumbling noise as he and the Duke both passed up through the ceiling of the homestead they’d been hiding in and the world outside sprung up to meet them. The dark night sky shone, the moon full and beautiful as the stars pierced the darkness. 

His perception was thrown for a loop as the Duke flew through the sky, far below the city lights illuminated the ground but when the ground became the sky and the sky the ground, Jamison felt like he may well throw up if things didn’t right themselves immediately. He even lifted his, now, burned hand to cover his mouth.

That’s when the Duke swung downwards and landed forcibly in a tree. Wood splintered beneath his immense weight and again Jamison felt himself dangling above the ground but at least now the distance wasn’t too ridiculous. Sure, dropping from this height would no less result in broken ankles or legs but at least he’d survive this fall. He’s all but left in the tree as the Duke releases him, having left him thrown over a branch like a throw rug, as the branch creaked with the strain of the twos combined weight.

In a dazed state he looked skywards and instantly regretted doing it because flying out of the clear night sky was a ring. And not just any wheel, but four wheels spinning out of sync with one another all while wrapped around one another. The outer ring was thickest, and had a multitude of eyes protruding on its surface that made him think of the eyes on the Duke’s wings. The inner spinning rings were without eyes, but spun quickly within the slowly spinning exterior ring.

Within the very centre of the multiple rings, was a glowing centre. But as it grew closer it became painstakingly obvious there was a figure within it. A baby? It was glowing with a purple and black glow that made him think of a black hole, the type of which he’d seen in movies, and online. In fact the very sky immediately around the rings seemed to warp and shift if only a little as it flew past them. 

Every single eye on the exterior ring was open and gazing, either at himself, or at the Duke. But the eyes looking at him quickly shifted and locked onto the demon before the ring... apparently screamed with a human, female voice, before it ploughed right into him. His wings were flared and spread as far as they could go, and with every powerful flap of his mighty wings did he connect them with the rings. The sounds it made, as the two collided, gave the impression the rings were made of some sort of metal. It almost sounded musical when they were struck by the heavy, powerful wings. But it clashed horribly with the screaming shrieks of the ring monster, that was already mixing with the combination of growling, and snorting coming from the Duke.

Jamison watched as the fat man quickly shifted his appearance, head splitting in two, clothing melting from his form, and the multi-headed beast returned. Large hands, turned claws, grabbed at the rings and he seemed to grow in size to match that with the spinning screaming rings of eyes and purple light. He struggled in the tree, attempting to begin to climb his way down but he stopped short when he realized, while these literal giants were fighting in the skies above, a woman now stood besides him on the branch.

“Hiya!” she greeted with a smile plastered over her chubby face. She was Chinese in appearance, her black hair tied up, a hair pin through her hair to hold it in place. Her clothing was a simple powder blue suit. Her skirt was down to her knees and beneath that she wore white stockings, dotted with silver stars, and her shoes were a simple shiny black pair of Mary Janes. But considering the fact she stood here on the tree branch, balancing as if it were the most natural thing in the world Jamison immediately felt a sense of unease. How the Hell...

“Uhh... You do...” he pointed, weakly, up towards the sky.

“Oh, I see it. I do have eyes, y’know.” the woman replied with a scoff. “What do you think I am, stupid?”

“...no?”

“C’mon!” she grabbed his good wrist, her touch surprisingly cold, but he hasn’t got long to contemplate as she yanks him towards her and she jumps down from the tree to land on the ground. She lands as if she’d just jumped a step, while Jamison plummets and if she hadn’t put sudden support beneath him he most likely would have broken something. He immediately ripped himself from her arms, tripped over himself, and slammed face first into the dirt.

“Wow. Talented.” the woman scoffs as she reaches down, grabs the back of his collar, and drags him to his feet. But when she sees his arm she suddenly jumps back in alarm, eyes widening. One might even think she was about to hiss but she stopped herself. “What the--what is that?”

“What is anything right now?” he asked weakly, looking back to the sky to see each one of the Duke’s heads biting down on the outer wheel of the... whatever it was. The wheels inside were spinning faster and faster, all of the eyes spinning save for one that appeared to be dead already. Was it done in by the Duke? It was heavily scarred, so maybe not.

Suddenly it appeared as though the Duke got the upper hand as the spinning vortex of rings began to slowly lower towards the ground, his wings flapping erratically as he held control. Jamison, for lack of a better word, almost felt relieved before remembering just what he was dealing with here. But before he could ask any further questions the rings began to glow, the black void within its centre beginning to explode outwards in a silent blast that bathed the Duke in a sudden bright light.

The mysterious woman ducked behind the nearby tree while Jamison took the brunt of the brightness, falling to his knees and covering his face. If he could hold any memory of the dream he’d awoken from, the light may well remind him of the light that had blinded him back then, too. Alas the memory was gone, seconds after his awakening, so this was nothing more than another shocking event in his life in the past twenty four hours. Had it really been so recent? A day ago his main concern was passing his classes, continuing his faith, believing in himself. Now here he knelt in the middle of the night as a literal demon from Hell was fighting something that looked like it’d sprung forth from some cheesy sci-fi television show.

What hits the ground, however, is not a spiraling circle of brightness and power, but a woman.

When the light finally faded the brightness in his eyes, Jamison rubbed at his eyes frantically with both hands despite the fact one no longer truly felt like his own hand anymore. The flesh felt wrong, too smooth, and--that is one giant woman.

Because that’s what stood before him now, in the playground which now had a severe case of fire damage despite having no fire having touched them, was the woman. The damage done to the area had left one of the swings charred black, the plastic slide was partly melted, and any and all wood chips were now charcoal. Even the nearby trees were how giving off a faint whiff of smoke, and the smell of burned wood filled the air. And amongst it all, was the woman.

She was massive. Tall. Her hair a blazing colour of pink. Features both masculine, yet feminine at the same time. Her gown was what one would equate to a flowing gown of white. It fell off of her shoulders like a waterfall does over a cliff and it flowed down her figure, splitting open only just past her knees revealing she wore no shoes and quite possibly nothing else beneath the gown. Above her left eye was a scar, built like a cross, but jutting out just above that was something that looked like bone. It curved its way upwards until it was above her head before it slowly circled in on itself. The most latter day terms one could call it was a halo with a base, instead of how one would normally think of halos that hung suspended above or around an angels head.

Her exposed arms were the sorts of arms young wimpy boys, the likes of which Jamison had been at some point in his life, had dreamed of getting. With those arms, she could quite possibly lift him and the mysterious woman both in one hand each without breaking a sweat.

And sprouting from her back, of course, was a pair of wings. Black as the night sky, with feathers ruffled and unkempt, the shaking wings were the only sign of any physical discomfort she’d just endured. She turned her head sharply, eyes narrowing as the Duke in all his three headed glory landed besides her on the ground. As it turned out Jamison’s eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him, for he was indeed far larger than the first time he’d seen him. All three heads had their jaws open, hot breath piping out of each, the wolf head drooling heavily, as his own ruffled wings trembled against his back.

He saw the Duke’s plan before it even flew into action; he saw the legs shift with the weight of action that would send the Duke flying at the woman. And before he could even stop himself, Jamison’s feet had thrown him into action. He ran, bolting towards the demon as its mouths opened agape to leap at her but at the last possible second the young man was between them, throwing both of his arms up.

“STOP!”

The Duke froze, mid action, as if someone had hit a pause button on a remote. Three glowing white sets of eyes pinpointed on him. Three bared teeth with sharp teeth growled. His muscles, those along his arms, trembled and he could see veins bulging with the longing to attack this woman again, and yet he’s stopped in his tracks. Jamison, unable to comprehend what he’d just done (throwing himself in front of a demon more like ‘hi I have a death wish!’) and even more so that he’d survived it. Body beginning to slowly tremble as he turned, looking to the tall, strong woman whose expression was fairly neutral in appearance save for a coolly lifted eyebrow.

“...okay,” he begun slowly. “It’s been a... long day. Past twenty four hours. I’m right knackered,” Jamison looked towards the Chinese woman who was approaching the two, looking as if it were just another Monday for her. “I don’t know who you guys are, ‘n I don’t know if I’d really care if you did tell me.” he didn’t notice the woman with pink hair was now eyeing his right arm with mild curiosity. “But--”

“We ain’t got time for you.” the Duke interrupted, a large clawed hand landing on Jamison’s shoulder with a heavy thud, almost causing Jamison’s knees to buckle. “So we’ll be going now.”

“What?” Jamison blinked, looking up at the far larger, beastly looking demon who towered over him at least twice his normal size. He was being led away, and while a part of him almost felt appreciative of this since he really didn’t want to be here another part of him didn’t rightly take being spoken for like this. “Scuse me, I can talk for myself!”

“I know. You’re very good at it.” the Duke replied, all three heads seemingly focusing on something different to the other. The hog’s head was on him, the wolf looking around with its ears perked forward showing just how alert it was, while the horse was giving the two women the most powerful looking side eye a horse without any irses could imagine.

“Running away again?” the tall woman asked.

Her voice was hard, yet equally soft, and tinted with an accent. Her words froze the Duke mid stride, his massive wings flaring out as if to shield both himself and Jamison from her gaze. “No. It’s called being tactical. I ain’t hanging around in an open field with an angel. I may as well waltz towards the pearly gates, bend over, and ask them all to have a go.” the Duke shot back, tone even, but equally threatening.

“What happened?” she asked.

“...killed the priest. Puppeted him for months. Killed the nun immediately. Figure he felt I was close so he got scared and stupid.”

The fact they were talking about the people who’d raised him, Jamison couldn’t help but feel particularly unwell at these words. A hand found his stomach where he gripped it with his good hand.

“And his arm?” when had she suddenly appeared in front of them? Suddenly she was there, looking down at the blackened husk of an arm.

“You tell me.” the Duke shot back. “But like I said,” the wolf's head lowered itself to be just centimetres from her face, its teeth bared. “This ain’t the place to have a little get together.”

“So, we are to move it elsewhere.” she said, raising her hand.

“Wait, no--”

When the woman snapped her fingers, the scene of the burnt playground melted out of existence. Jamison felt as though somebody had hooked his stomach right through his navel and yanked. His head spun, the world around him became a swirl of colours and lights all merging together. He swore he could even smell colours by this point. He fought the urge to be sick, but when the world suddenly snapped back into existence he collapsed to his knees, threw his hands down onto the floor and retched all over the clean, polished marble flooring that had sprung up beneath him. 

"Oh now that's just lovely." the Chinese woman sneered above him somewhere. "Ugh. I'll go get a bucket..."


	6. Welcome Abroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rabbit hole keeps getting deeper for Jamison who finds himself whisked away to somewhere far from home in the company of two women he's slowly beginning to realize is far more than what they appear to be. And one just happens to be a literal angel on earth. Not only is he in another country, but being taken somewhere he isn't even sure on.

Jamison had never known such comfort in all his life. The church, well, it wasn’t known for the comforts of home. The pews were wooden and hard, purposefully so in case anyone tried to catch a nap during sermon. Classroom chairs were just as awkward and hard on the spine, and buttock, keeping you alert to the teacher just in case you wanted to run the risk of a small shut eye and run the risk of having a ruler slapped over your knuckles.

Even his bed, which was the comfiest thing he’d ever known, paled in comparison to just how comfortable the couch he was currently sitting on. It was like sitting on clouds, or something like it. It was soft, warm, comfy and if he wasn’t stark awake he probably would have fallen asleep.

But it’s hard to fall asleep when you have a literal angel standing in the same room as you. There she stood, large as life and twice as intimidating holding a white round tea pot in her hands. She seemed to glide across the room, even though he could see she was taking powerful strides, knowing her steps would echo through the place where they had materialized and yet it was silent as she walked.

“So uhh...” Jamison started, dumbly, unsure of just how to make small talk with the two women.

Duke Roh’Dhog wasn’t helping the situation whatsoever. There he sat, on the same couch as Jamison, sitting stock still. He looked as if someone was working a knife beneath his nails. Beads of sweat trickling above his forehead, and one large hand clamped so tightly around the tiny porcelain cup he held that the whiteness of his hand paled to that of the cup.

“Relax.” the angel urged with a voice as strong as the mountain as she leaned down to pour the contents of the teapot into the cup the Duke held onto so tightly as if it were a lifeline. “You are safe here.”

“Where uh, are we?” he asked, before glancing around at the white walls with a mild sense of panic. It was very pretty here, the walls decorated with designs and flourishes around the doors, and windows. Upon one wall hung a very large mirror, large enough someone may be able to step right through it if they so wanted to but in order to do so they’d be trampling over a very pretty table, and the fireplace. He had a strong sense doing that in here would be like pissing on the Virgin Mary. “We aren’t in Heaven are we?” 

Across from him, on the other couch, the woman in the suit snorted loudly and laughed into her hand. Oh yes, she made it look as though she was hoping to stifle her laughter but the way she did it, it was clear she wanted her amusement heard. He shot a look at her, frowning at the sight of her smug look.

“Don’t be so stupid.” she spoke, “As if we could get into Heaven.”

“Mei.” 

Ah, at last, a name! A name belonging to the snobbish woman in the powder blue suit was better than no name whatsoever. Jamison watched the two women keenly, the one now known as Mei turning her smile to a far more softer one as the angel approached her with a cup of tea. “You know I can’t drink this,” Mei spoke as she took the cup. “But thank you.”

The angel gave a small, amused laugh, before turning around to face the two men. She set her hands upon her hips, doing so made the muscles in her arms bulge in a way he’d never seen a woman bulge before. He didn’t even know that many muscles existed in someones arms. He was all but transfixed by them.

“So rude of me! I whisk you away like that, and I do not even have time to tell you my name! Or ask yours!” 

She glided to a large comfy chair and settled herself on it, the large black wings that protrude from her back stretching out to allow her room to sit on the chair without hindering them. “Now, my name is not one you would be able to speak, much less understand. That is why I go by the name Zarya while I am upon this Earth. So you may call me that.”

Seemed surreal to be speaking with something that you, up until an hour ago, did not know exist. Well, no. He knew of angels. Who didn’t? Women in white flowing robes with wings as white as snow who looked over everyone. God's messengers. Gods warriors. But to be sitting in the same room as one? To see wings not as white as fluffy clouds but black as ink, contrasting with hair that was bright pink. 

That halo was certainly not a glowing brightness behind her head either but something literally growing out of her skull. He eyed how it arched up and around, and he wondered what it felt like if you touched it. Bone? Something softer?

“And what is your name?” she asked, smiling at him warmly.

“Jamison Fawkes. Well, me friends called me Jamie. Some did.” well, a few times the others would call him that but it never seemed to stick. His name was Jamison. Named for the Father. Took the Sisters surname. Almost as if he was their son.

Zarya watched his expression turn from contemplative to one of utter heart ache. His hands, still clutching that teacup, began to tremble. She sat forward a bit. “Are you alright?”

“They’re dead.” he spat bitterly. “They, they both died while I was out--Sister Fawkes died in my arms, she--” as if remembering suddenly he jumped back, the cup in his hand finally falling as he stared in abject horror at his arm. The gleaming sheen that travelled up to his forearm. The light filtering in through the window reflected on it, making it glow red and gold. In a way it was almost beautiful. If it weren’t attached to his arm.

Finally the Duke moved, and he placed a large hand to the Jamison’s quaking side. He drew him fully flush against him on the couch, the other arm reaching around to stroke against his head. Jamison, breathing as if he was about to launch into a panic attack, began to very slowly ease though he had no reason to do so. This... this demon hadn’t shown him a single scrap of kindness in all the hours he’d known him. He’d never touched him like this. And yet it was calming and he felt his heart ease, as he let his eyes shut and tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Ugh I’ll fetch the tissues too now.” Mei said as she got to her feet, setting her undrunk cup of tea onto the table. “I forget how emotional people are.” she said as she began to leave the room.

“He has lost two very important souls in his life.” Zarya countered gently. “He is allowed to mourn.”

Her eyes, however, were fixed on his arm. She watched as he shifted, his hand grasping at the Duke’s arm to steady himself. It looked like a shell, yet it was a part of his flesh and not covering it at all. Shimmering under the light overhead, it seemed to glow without giving off any light of its own. Zarya wanted to touch it, to see what it felt like but even she could see he was in no state of mind to be prodded and poked at by someone.

She heard a familiar grunt, and lifting her head she saw that the Duke was staring at her from behind his sunglasses. Even with the thick black lenses in the way, she could feel the warning look he was boring into her face. Zarya offered a small scoff, smiled, and drew back. “I will give you privacy then. If that is what you want.”

He didn’t need to give her an answer, as she got up to her feet and walked out of the room and through to the next room where Mei was looking through a cupboard. Hearing her enter the room, Mei turned her head and offered up a fairly shy smile before looking back into the cupboard to find the box of tissues. “Must be weird for you.” she commented.

“It breaks my heart.” Zarya admitted as she reached into the same cupboard, up and above Mei’s lowered head, to grab the box she was looking for. 

“Do you think he is the one who attacked the church?” Mei asked, forgetting about the tissues immediately.

Zarya lowered her head, frowning her brow as she did. “He was in the vicinity. I sensed him, and only him. But then why leave a survivor? Why guard him as much as he is? He has never made sense but this blows me away more than anything else.”

“I don’t like the skinny ones arm.” 

“No?”

Mei had moved to turn the tap on at the sink, and washed her hands beneath the cool water. “It feels... like it is watching me. Judging me. Even without eyes it is judging me even now I can still feel it looking at me.”

Zarya offered a chuckle of support as she reached down and placed a hand to Mei’s upper back. “If it were truly evil I would feel it.”

“Evil for me.” Mei countered, looking up at her. “Honestly, I think you forget that I am undead and have been for over a century.”

“Impossible to forget.” Zarya replied softly. 

The two women stood in the kitchen in quiet contemplative silence. One of them thought back to a Chinese expedition to the Himalayas. A proud group of intrepid explorers who were going for the thrill of a scientific hunt. What they found was air cold enough to peel skin from their bodies, and deaths that were quiet and muffled until only one remained. She began to shiver at the memories but the angels hand was rubbing up and down her back now, and the past melted like the snow in her mind could not and Mei was back in the kitchen. 

“We have guests. Let us not be rude.”

“Oh please.” Mei scoffed, snatching the tissue box out of Zaryas hand effortlessly. She made her way back into the room to discover that in the time she was gone, the skinny one with patchy hair had moved himself to the nearest window and was transfixed with the sight outside. The demon still disguised as a human being was sat on the couch, unmoving. Making her way to the coffee table before him she drops the box so it loudly hit the wood. She watched the human jolt and spin around, revealing his face to be an ugly patchy mess of red and white, his eyes red from tears and his nose rosy from rubbing. “Wow you are a catch.” she commented, thumbing towards the tissue box. “At least try to make yourself look presentable.”

Jamison didn’t want to, since it would look like he was obeying this bossy womans orders, but he did want to clean his face so he approached the table and grabbed a tissue or two and blew his nose. Mei kept her distance, keeping an eye on that exposed arm of his.

“Where are we?” Jamison asked, “I was just lookin’ outside and I don’t recognize nothin’ or the sky line...”

“Observant, that is good.” Zarya smiled, reentering the room and standing by the coffee table. She opened her arms wide, even going so far to spread her wings as well for double effect. “Welcome to New Delhi!”

The room was quiet for a second before Jamison looked out the window again. “New Delhi??” he asked, eyes wide.

“Da. Capital of India.”

“In case you didn’t know where New Delhi was.” Mei added on, extra helpfully.

“I can’t be in New Delhi!!” Jamison shouted, “I ain’t got a passport!! What if I’m found out ‘n arrested and thrown into some Indian prison oh Hell I’m sure they’ll love that, get a real blast outta the skinny white kid dressed like THIS,” he gestured to the black clothing, and the white collar of his gear. “Why the Hell am I in New Delhi how did we even get--”

“I bring us here.” Zarya replied calmly, grabbing the box of tissues just in case, and approached him. “Because of what happened. We brought you here so you can go to the organization.”

“No.” 

The Duke finally spoke, standing to his feet as he did, and the sheer weight of his voice brought everyone's eyes to him.

“We’re not going.”

“We’re not? Not going where? What organization?” Jamison asked, confused, curious, and more than a tiny bit excited. But the excitement was a mess of fear as well. He was in a foreign country. A new land. New words and places and faces but he wasn’t here by choice. Had he just been kidnapped? Had an Angel of the Lord descended upon him and whisked him away to another part of the planet? Oh no he was starting to feel dizzy again.

“The organization.” Zarya repeated a second time. “Is who Mei works for and by extension who I work for. We maintain peace. We chase the monsters who dare harm those on Gods’ green Earth.”

“You’re agents?” he asked, now even more excited.

“It’s what she just said, isn’t it?” Mei asked irritably. “This is the Home Front of the organization. This city. People always think it is America where all the big things go down but not this time.” she smiled toothily and for the first real time Jamison caught sight of the fangs. Her canines were far longer than normal. He stared blatantly for a moment before, slowly, moving towards the couch and towards the Duke. “What’s wrong?” Mei asked, knowing all too well what was wrong.

“Your teeth.” Jamison said, carefully.

“What about them?” she asked.

“Uhhhh...”

“Mei do not play with him.” Zarya scolded, and Mei hunched her shoulders as she folded her arms over her chest.

“You don’t let me have any fun.” she muttered.

“Do not be scared, but Mei is a vampire. She has not feasted on human for a long time, do not worry.” the angel got right down to brass tacks, not wanting to drag out this reveal any longer than she had to. “She is in full control of herself and has been for many decades now. It is commendable just how strong her will is to fight past the blood lust many of her kind feel.”

“I’m sorry I kind of blocked out everything after hearin’ the word vampire.” Jamison blurted.

Mei sighed loudly on purpose and unfolded her arms. “Oh no it’s a vampire I better grab my crucifix and toss some garlic at her.”

“If I ‘ad some I’d be shoven em down your throat!” Jamison shouted back, adrenaline once more surging through his being. 

“Like to see you try.” Mei scoffed.

“Mei.” 

“Jamison.”

Both angel and demon spoke at once, causing the two others to freeze up if only for a second. Mei stalked towards Jamison with purpose in her stride, fists forming by her sides. “So you think just because you are part of the church you can immediately think you are better than me?”

“You mean I’m not?” Jamison asked. “You--you shouldn’t be REAL for one! You drink blood, you turn men and women corrupt, you feast on the blood of newborns and--”

“Hey I’ve never drank newborns blood!” Mei frowned. “But I’d love to try a would be priests blood...”

It was just a mocking, teasing phrase but the next thing Mei knew the Duke had put himself between herself and Jamison. Just how a man his size could lunge at such a speed without breaking something was a literal miracle. She looked up at him and refused to show the fear she felt running through her cold heart. For a second she swore he was that giant, three headed beast from at the park. Those wings black as night with those glaring, searching red eyes, and the burning white hot eyes of the three beasts.

“Hey, chill out. As if I would.” Mei stuttered, hating the tremble to her voice.

“Mei is many things, but she is not a murderer. She does not drink human blood anymore.” Zarya repeated, moving to stand behind Mei, placing both her hands on the Chinese womans shoulders. “She has been, as you say, dry for many decades. She works for the organization, and she brings monsters like her to justice. Those who refuse to change. Those who would rather die than help aid mankind in this war against evil.”

Jamison peeked around the hulking mass that was the Duke, gently gripping his arm. He could feel his muscles twitching like a coiled spring beneath that clothing. If he were to release that tension, the vampire would most likely be punched into next year.

“Okay, fine, so she won’t bleed me dry but... why do you want to take me to some organization?”

“You have seen far too much. You know more than you should for your age. Must decide what is to be done with you.” Zarya replied helpfully, brightly.

“What’s to be done with me?? What’re you gonna do, wipe me memory? I already got a crap one, don’t make it worse!” Jamison pulled back, gaze averting to the back of the Duke’s body. 

“Maybe they’ll just kill you.” Mei thought aloud. “A skinny, un-ordained priest? What have you got to offer anything?”

“They’re not killing you.” the Duke spoke for the second time since being brought here. “I would level their precious base before they even touch you.”

Small comfort. But comfort nonetheless. Jamison burned internally.

“We do not murder people. At least those who are innocent. But what you have seen cannot be unseen and we do not yet have the ability to alter memories just yet.” the angel smiled. “But you need to come with us. We have to file a report on what has been happening within your town, Jamison. Things are rising and I have a feeling this is not the only occurrence.”

“But what about Duke?” Jamison asked.

“What about him?” Mei replied.

“If... if I were to go with ya, to this organization, what’ll happen to him?”

“Does it matter?” Zarya asked.

“...yeah it does.” Jamison answered after a moment. “Would the blokes you work with kill him? Try to contain him? Send him back?”

“Like to see them try.” the Duke chuckled deeply.

Zarya looked torn for a moment, before sighing, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “If you were to come with us, he would have to stay put. I do not think even I could sway them to not attack him on sight.”

“I ain’t leavin’ him.” 

Jamison finally stepped out from behind the demon, looking up at him in mild bewilderment at such a statement. He had just sounded so sure in himself and his words. Nothing would get him to leave his side, not even the threat of being attacked by some kinda organization built to fight creatures like him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Why?” Zarya asked. “What is so important about this human you are risking your own life to be near him?”

The angel and the demon stared at one another and one would swear a whole conversation took place judging by their looks alone, yet to the untrained eye neither changed their expression at all. Zarya slowly dragged her gaze down to Jamison and stared at him, before looking back to the Duke, and back again. She looked unconvinced about something. But she scoffed, and shook her head. “If you think so.”

“Maybe they can tell us what’s up with your arm.” Mei offered.

“Oh.” he looked down at his arm; honestly the number of times he forgot its existence like this was embarrassing. He reached his good hand down to touch the shell like casing, and now it felt warm under his touch. Like the casis of a revving engine, but there was no burning engine here. Only himself.

“Again, it would be safest if you did not come.” Zarya said, hands now on her hips. “You are risking a lot to waltz in like you intend to.”

“I already risked everything walking out of Hell.” Duke countered sternly. “You know nothing of what I’ve been through.”

“Do you forget what I have been through?” she asked, her tone softening if just a little.

He drew himself to his full height, took a huge intake of breath and in doing so it expanded his middle if only a little before he exhaled slowly. The Duke turned, facing Jamison. “What we do is your choice. Where you go, I go. No questions.”

Jamison didn’t know which way to look now. He was in the room with three beings who should not logically exist. Yet here was a woman, with pink hair no less, who had a halo jutting out of her head. Then the second woman with jet brown hair was a blood thirsty vampire who had apparently sworn off the red stuff. And last but certainly not least was a literal Duke of Hell itself swearing to protect him without any reason as to why. Was he the only human in this room? Clearly he was.

But what of this organization? They may attack the Duke. Would that drive him away? Destroy him? Send him back to Hell? What if after disposing of the Duke, they kill him as well? After all, what use would he be? But the idea of a whole organization working worldwide to fight back against demons, monsters, vampires, all the stuff he swore was not real... would this curiosity be the end of him? If it was, at least he would be with Father and Sister in the hereafter. 

Was it bad that the idea of death brought comfort?

“We’re gonna go.”

~*~

A priest, demon, angel and a vampire climb into a car.

It sounds like the start of a bad joke. But here in a car barely capable of withholding the amount of mass it was now shouldered with was driving along a very busy street of New Delhi. The radio was playing loud music that only two people in the car could understand, at least before Mei reached down and grabbed a very aged cassette tape and slapped it into the slot.

Silence for a few seconds before the elicit tones of Freddie Mercury began to sing.

“Who wants to live forever?” he sang, ironically asking three very immortal beings that question.

“Was not my choice.” Mei answered.

Zarya laughed, but Duke was silent as the grave as he sat in the backseat alongside Jamison. Mei was driving and taking up a lot of the room in the front passenger seat was the angel herself. She had the window down, and her shapely bicep rested on the car door, the hand gripping the top of the door securely. Jamison stared for a second before his eyes snapped away immediately and he ended up staring at the Duke’s arm instead. His arms were just as, if not more so, thick as Zarya’s and that's saying something. His gaze was fixed ahead of him, boring a glare into the back of the angels head rest.

“So. How come ya can’t flash us in there like you did us outta the whole of Australia?” Jamison asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence accompanied by Freddie Mercury’s singing with small talk. Plus he was curious.

“There are measures to prevent that. You never know what might... sneak in with you.” she pointedly looked into the back seat at the Duke. If he saw her looking at him he ignored her, refused to acknowledge her general existence, and continued to gaze out the window. Undeterred she looked to Jamison. “If something were to try and teleport in, by any means, it would end badly for who is trying to do it.”

“Oh.”

He wanted to know how they safe guarded like that but knew better than to ask. Zarya had probably already disclosed too much. Looking outside he watched the city he’d never think he would ever visit went whizzing past him as Mei drove. She seemed to know her way around, going down many sideways, and making short cuts, and driving especially well. Did she even have a license? Could a vampire hold one?

“You are wondering how I am living in the daylight, aren’t you?” Mei asked suddenly, making him jolt.

“What? No!” well, he hadn’t been. He was more curious about her license.

“Vampires being unable to stand in the sun light is only stories written by people to make themselves feel safer. So is garlic.” Mei said as she drove, eyes on the road as she darted in between two moving trucks. “We can walk in the daylight just fine, and eat garlic like apples if you were so inclined.”

“Good for you?” he asked.

The car entered silence again and Jamison sighed internally. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Perhaps going to this nameless, faceless organization an angel and vampire work for wasn’t a keen idea. Could he ditch them? Maybe if he threw the door open and leaped out he could--

His train of thought crashed and burned when he felt a large hand grip his good forearm. Looking down at it Jamison found the Duke’s large grip wrapping itself around his arm, looking more like he was grabbing a twig. Just how... no. Don’t question. Don’t think. It feels like he’s sitting in a car with mind readers so any little thought could be picked up. Or he was readable like a book.

Their car finally pulled up to a building that looked no different to any other. It was several stories tall, tinted windows blacked out the interior, and it didn’t look special at all. Mei swiped a security card, input a number, and placed her palm on a touch screen all of this done in a few seconds flat in order for the gates to open. The gates were high, electrified, and a Sphinx as well as a Naga were on display, shaped out of stone, both sitting atop the entrance way. Both seemed to gaze down at those entering. Jamison also managed to spot the Helix Security International symbol on the wall as they drove past it; Helix was a renown security group that worked all across the planet. Were they wrapped up in this place?

“Alright.” Zarya got out of the car. “We are going to be entering through main door. Be quiet. Both of you.” she looked from Jamison to the Duke, and back again. “We are entering place that is very old and has been operating for a very long time. There is history here. You do best to respect it.”

“Even if they might kill us?” Jamison asked.

“Yes.”

“Right.”

Duke Roh’Dhog stared down the building as if it were an enemy. He looked half ready to leap at the nearest wall and do some structural damage yet retained a composure of a man in control. Jamison hesitated as the two women were talking together, leading them towards the doors. 

“Still time to run?” Jamison asked under a hushed tone.

“Always.” the Duke replied.

He was tempted to leap into the demon's arms and be flown away from this place but how would that look? It was the middle of the day now, and he expected the security cameras here were already trained on them and would follow their every move out of this city. Why had he agreed to this again? 

“You coming or not?” Mei asked at the door, the doors sliding open upon approach.

“Guess I am...?” he replied, unsure.

The doors remained open and just like when he’d walked through the church's doors back when he’d first met the Duke, Jamison keeps his eyes locked on the towering demon. As soon as he walks through the sliding door the demon appears to tense for just a second but he keeps walking. No bursting into flames. No crumbling to dust. Nothing of the sort. 

Even the angel appears to be watching him with a look so intense it could burn people's faces off. His eyes roamed from the Duke to the rest of the room. There was smooth marble everywhere, columns keeping impossibly high ceilings supported, yet the walls were bare of portraits but there was a very large stone carving of a naga. Long hair trailed into the wall, their eyes open and intense, and looked half ready to leap off of the wall to coil their long tail around him in order to squeeze the life out of him.

The floor was shiny and if you were walking in socks, no doubt it would be a slippery game of keeping your balance. Or throw caution to the wind and try to slide across the entire floor in one fell swoop. He recalled the other boys back home doing this after the cleaners would buff the floors. In the centre was a colourful, large circle that seemed to spin and rotate in on itself. Staring at it for too long would probably give him a terrible migraine.

But the four approach the front desk where behind the desk stands an omnic. It lifts its head, long pointed ear looking antennae stand to attention. 

“Welcome back.” it greets the two, however it appears to chance a glance at the visitors. 

“Lynx,” Mei speaks to the omnic and it turns its head to face her. “We have some important information to relay. Too delicate for standard protocols.”

“I see.” Lynx replied, reaching down to the desk and pressed a few buttons that were hidden from sight. “Please position yourselves in the centre of the room and do keep your hands and arms by your sides at all times.”

They did as instructed and took up position on the same swirling circle. Jamison watches the omnic as, suddenly, the floor began to sink beneath them. Looking down he sees that the large circle was actually a platform and they were being taken down underground. The walls continue to be marble all the way down as they pass numerous door ways, each one numbered in Roman numerals. The air down here was surprisingly fresh and crisp, despite the fairly warm weather above. Not that Jamison wasn’t used to warm weather, he was from Australia after all.

Mei was tapping something into a holographic wrist projector, her fingers moving rapidly. Zarya was standing, surprisingly quiet as she watches the floors pass by. The only thing missing from this moment was the overly cheery elevator music playing over some speakers but instead all they got was the sound of machinery working as the platform lowered itself more, and more.

Finally it seemed to reach the floor they were after and the doors slid open. 

It looked like some kind of futuristic hospital. Everything was blazing white and you could smell the cleanliness before you even stepped off of the platform and through the sliding doors. Security cameras were on full display in the corners, round white orbs with gazing aqua circles that followed you around the room. Another thing you would notice about the room, if you were really observant, was just how symmetrical the entire room was. There were some bookshelves built into the wall and they were mirrored perfectly across the room even with the same number of books on either side.

There was a glass table set up on the far distant wall, suspended on white legs, one on each side. The table was empty. In fact the whole room was empty besides the four of them who, now, looked even more out of place than they would look any other place in the world. One looked like the bouncer from Hell, another a blood sucking business woman, then there was the muscle bound Greek sculptured Goddess statue brought to life, and the left over scrawny bloke from Australia who looked like he’d gotten into a fight with a hair dresser and lost.

Behind the glass table there were two doors, of course on either side, mirroring one another. 

Jamison was about to ask if they were allowed to talk or if there was a ‘No Talking’ rule in this room when one of those doors slid open. He snapped his attention to the door, the room it opened to appeared to be fairly dark. A figure finally appeared out of the darkness and they made their way into the room. It was a woman. She had olive brown skin, shining black hair that ran down the length of her back to stop just at the small of it. Her clothing was tailor made to suit her and it showed, nothing was out of place. It seemed like it would be a literal crime if there was.

She had a visor over her eyes, the blue tint doing little to hide the steely cool gaze she gave the four. With a wave of her hands behind her, a chair seemed to materialize out of nowhere just for her and she sat upon it. She crossed her legs daintily and placed both her hands upon her folded knees, gaze still fixed on the four of them. 

“Welcome.” she said, her Indian accent thick with that single utterance. “I believe you have some information?”

_To be continued_


	7. Test Subjects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The organization, still remaining nameless, turns out to be not as much help as one would imagine but it's offering respite to a group of very tired beings who need some down time. But there are some tiny story advancement for various heroes... as well as a Grim meeting.

“...and that’s the short version of it all.” Mei concluded after a fairly lengthy, and detailed, explanation as to what they had been through in the past twenty four hours to the woman. Whose name, as it turned out, was Satya Vaswani. Her name was engraved on a plaque on the table, after all. Mei had, however, omitted from telling the woman behind the glass table just who or what the Duke was. For all the woman knew, he was another survivor of the attack on the church. Would that even work? Why was Mei covering for him suddenly? What was her game?

The woman leaned forward and rested her chin on her fingers, which she linked neatly. Her left arm, Jamison had swiftly realized, was a prosthetic. White and clean with black and blue highlights that matched with the colour of her visor that covered her eyes. She pursed her lips a little, before looking to Jamison, and the Duke.

“I must extend to you my most heartfelt apologies that this has happened to your Church. While we have had details regarding upstarts in Australia, I never thought it would grow so brazen.” Satya stood up, turning her attention to Mei, and Zarya. “Did you initiate Order 189B?”

Mei blinked once, twice, before smiling weakly. “Um. Oops?”

“Oops?” a perfectly sculptured eyebrow arched. “Do you mean to tell me you left the building standing?”

“The injuries to the boy had us get out faster than we normally do.” Zarya explained.

“Indeed.” 

Satya, once standing and moving around the table, ignored how the chair she’d been sitting on vanished from existence. She moved closer to the group, her eyes on the arm. “What a perplexing side effect... You’ve never seen this before?” she turned her attention to Zarya.

“Never.”

“That makes this very interesting indeed.” she reached out a hand to touch, but she stopped herself, curling her fingers in on herself and pulled back. “Take him to the research and development department. Initiate order 189B.”

“What’s 189B?” Jamison spoke, for the first time, to Satya.

“After a demonic presence has possessed an individual on Holy Ground the location needs to be cleansed. By fire.” she explained. 

“W-what?”

“It needs to come down and burn in Holy fire. And seeing how our Angel here forgot to do her job, we need to do this quickly.”

“No!” he shouted, “Ya ain’t gonna burn my home! I grew up there, their bodies are still there--oh God the cops’ve probably arrived by now, it’ll be covered by cops and ambulance types, shit!” Jamison worried his hands against his face, eyes wide. “All my stuff, me bike...!”

He was beginning to lose it again, that’s when large hands settle upon his shoulders and he’s pulled back against the massive form that was the Duke. Jamison would deny it to his dying day but he felt a rush of calm for if a moment, when those large hands touched him. Satya observed him and the large man, before clapping her hands together. “The orders are issued. Try to find this bike of his if it means that much. But material possessions amount to nothing when you are, and have been, at war for a long time. Now. Take him to research to see what they can make of his arm.”

And with that he was removed from the room, back on the platform, once again in the company of immortal beings.

“Ya didn’t... tell her.” Jamison said, shakily, to Mei.

“I want to keep things interesting. Satya is a good woman, but she can come off as all knowing.” she grinned, toothily, as she spoke softly. 

But he was worried now. How hadn’t the Duke been found out? Weren’t there security measures? And research team? Was he about to be experimented on? Cut open to see what was going on inside him? 

Turned out he was fairly wrong in that assumption. The research room was as clean and spotless as Satya’s room was. Zarya and Mei had orders, so while they would have loved to have hung around and chat more they had to go. Jamison watched them vanish down a hallway before turning a corner. He and Duke were left in the capable hands of one Tekhartha Zenyatta; another omnic, this one hovering off of the floor and had floating orbs that slowly rotated around his neck like the planets did the sun.

“This way, please.” he spoke in a fairly soothing, calming voice as he led the men through the laboratory. It was spotless, no gross or horrible looking experiments laying around at all. In fact he was the only, er, person here. He led them to a room and had Jamison sit and the moment he did the orbs around his neck shot away as if suddenly beings with their own mind, and began to spin around Jamison. Each one seemed to light up differently, causing holographic projections of Omnic writing to appear now and then.

He proceeded to ask Jamison all kinds of questions. His age, full name, date of birth, star sign, last thing he ate, if he was sexually active, all sorts of questions that seemed more fitting to be coming from a doctor rather than a hovering omnic. Jamison blushed his way through most of them while a few of the hovering balls began to focus on his arm, scanning it rapidly while the omnic observed a read out on a holo projection screen.

“This is mysterious.” he mused after a moment, scrolling the read through quickly, far quicker than a human could read. “While your arm does appear differently to how it normally does, these readouts act as if I am just scanning a regular human arm. No irregularities. No structural change. For all intents and purposes, your arm is fine.”

“Does it look fine??” Jamison asked, gesturing wildly to his right arm. He flexed his fingers, the sheen of his arm gleaming under the lights of the room. “I wasn’t born like this, mate!”

“Your pulse has increased. Please try to remain calm. Embrace tranquility,” the omnic waved his hand in a soothing manner and one of the orbs turned a soft yellow colour and began to gently hover besides Jamison’s head. Somehow, that, seemed to bring on a sense of genuine calm. He didn’t know how, omnics were... strange. Because of them his home had been mostly destroyed, the world had been attacked, but the fact they had been forgiven and was being given second chances showed the good in men's hearts. He guessed. He eyed the orb as if it had insulted his mother though, trying to keep a distance.

“I shall relay this information. Now, we need to get you gentlemen to your rooms.”

“Rooms?” he asked.

“Yes. While under the observation of the organization you are to be housed here. We have everything, running water, electricity, access to top notch medical staff...”

“We’re not staying.” the Duke spoke at last. “This isn’t our home.”

“For now, sir, it is.” the omnic responded cooly. “I am sorry.”

He would have answered with “Not yet” and immediately punched the omnic in the face but the Duke wanted a low profile. So while he envisioned an assault on the omnic and that woman in the other room, he stood there as intimidatingly as possible. Which was surprisingly intimidating when you could channel the pure, raw energy of several animals at once combined with that of a literal Duke from Hell. A human being would have wet themselves but an omnic was not on the same wavelength as a living, breathing creature so Zenyatta simply hovered there blissfully unaware of just what kind of power stood in front of him.

“Zenyatta, there you are I was--well hey there!”

There was suddenly another person in the room and in doing so, the room suddenly felt a whole lot smaller despite how massive it was. The new addition was a six foot something man with dark brown skin, white hair tied back into a ponytail, wearing clothing that gave off the impression that he was in medical research. Most likely the tag on his chest reading ‘Medical Research’. He had a strong jawline, warm eyes, and if he were your guardian angel you would most likely be very thankful.

“Nice to meet you!” he reached his hand out to the Duke who, after a slow second, took hold of his hand. Naturally, his hulking hand enveloped the strangers. “I’m Angelos Chionesu! Angie for short. Everyone calls me that.” Angie pulled his hand free, squeezing his hand. “That’s some powerful grip you got there, wow!”

“Thanks.”

Angie shook his hand a bit, before looking to Jamison. “You must be the test subject!”

“Test subject.” Jamison echoed.

“Hah, I’m joking! Don’t look at me like I’m Doctor Death. Far from it.” he waved his hand, offering another laugh, before pulling up a holo projector in front of his face. “I was just reading this read out from Zenyatta’s scanning. Your arm does look odd but it reads as fine. But... you have traces of radiation in your system...?”

“Oh yeah.” he looked down at his arm, reaching a hand down to touch it. Still it felt hard, like a shell on a crab but these people insisted it was normal. “I was in Australia when the omnium blew up.”

Both Zenyatta and Angie both seemed a bit put off by this. The omnic for obvious reasons; that omnium had blown up. Nobody really knew who had done it, was it terrorists? The Australian Liberation Front? Or even the omnics themselves? Regardless, that explosion had changed a large section of the Australian outback which had already been very rough and dangerous into something even worse. The radiation had seeped into the ground, polluted the air, even the clouds had been effected. While help had been offered, what was left behind was a Mad Max wonderland for lawless individuals run by a Queen who claimed she was the one true ruler of it all.

“Don’t feel bad!” he waved his hands, eyes widening slightly. “I was only five, got no memory of me family before that!”

That only made Angie look worse, and Zenyatta began to hover lower towards the ground.

“I was adopted ‘n taken to the Church y’see? Was raised there. Learned everythin’ and... yeah...” he didn’t want to go on. Didn’t want to talk about his childhood. About growing up in that Church which by now was most likely a burning cinder. Everything he’d ever had gone, but the memories remained rooted and he knew those would never shift. Even his already terrible memory couldn’t dislodge the faces of his family from his mind. He was already wishing he could.

Angie frowned softly before reaching his gloved hand out to touch the young man’s shoulder. He didn’t need to say anything, that touch seemed to say everything. The Duke watched quietly as Jamison offered the other a weak smile, before he looked to Zenyatta, then back to Angie. “I’d like ta go put my legs up thanks.” Jamison said, weakly.

“Sure, yeah of course!” Angie reached into a pocket on his outfit before walking forward and handed Jamison a box. “Here, treatment for your radiation. It’s top of the brand too! We here work hard to ensure our treatment is the best in the business!”

Jamison eyed the box but was thankful. His meds were gone too, now. He got off of the medical examination table, wobbled a bit, and was shown to the door by Angie and Zenyatta both before they had to hand both him and the Duke over to somebody who’d take them to their living quarters. 

“They’re nice.” Jamison commented. “Nicer than Mei.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m really startin’ ta feel like a cricket ball.” Jamison muttered.

“Hmmm.” the Duke echoed again.

Jamison frowned a bit. “Sure love worshipin’ Satan.”

“Please don’t.”

“Ah. Was checkin’ if you was listening.” he offered a weak grin, to which the Duke snorted at him in a bemused way.

“Your room,” the young man said as he waved a security key over a door and it slid open. “Now I’ll show you to yours--”

“We’re together.” the Duke said.

“Uh?”

“We’re together.” he echoed again, only with more weight to his words. In those two words were a very lengthy threat that if you even tried to split them up there would be something very bloody, and violent, happening to you. We would hate to call your mother and have her try to identify your remains by your teeth alone. The demon didn’t care if he was in some super high tech security place that kept the world safe if you tried to remove Jamison from his sight, it would be like getting between a bear and her cub. Not the smartest idea.

“Y-yes of. Of course.”

All throughout this Jamison’s face was a hot, red colour. He didn’t even have the energy to argue; this demon and him had to have a talk about this. Just as the door was beginning to shut the large man seemed to pause; watching someone else walking past. Probably throwing yet another threatening glare at some poor young thing; the woman looked at him and hurried her steps quickly, eyes wide.

The door slid shut but Jamison didn’t have time to take in the sight of the room. How clean and orderly it was. The bed bigger than any he’d slept in before. Warm carpet under foot, a built in wardrobe. A room that exited into a bathroom with shower, toilet, bath, and a vast supply of fluffy white towels. He didn’t have the energy, nor time, to take it in. His emotions were beginning to bubble again, threatening to blow up. So he turned his attention to the demon who had turned to look at him at last.

“We’re together??” he asked.

“Yeah.” the Duke replied.

“They think we’re _together_ together!”

The Duke did not respond.

“You know what I mean, right? You got gay guys in Hell, yeah? Buggery? Stuff like that?”

“Gays are everywhere.” he said, bluntly. “Heaven. Here. Hell. S’why I find it hilarious when Bible thumping idiots say it’s sinful.”

“We ain’t gonna be discussing THAT,” Jamison all but screamed before taking a breath, moved to the bed, and sat on it before pressing both hands to his face. “Look mate, ya can’t be with me 24/7.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I gotta shower shit ‘n shave at some point.” he frowned, “I ain’t gonna have my most private moments witnessed by a... a...”

“...demon?”

“Yeah!!” Jamison stood up again, despite the ache in his leg after having been on it so long without removing it. “You’re a demon, from Hell. A duke of Hell at that. Why are you so obsessed with me? If you’re gonna be hoverin’ round me as much as you want I need to know why!”

He heard a loud cracking noise and he jumped back in fright; but it turned out to be the Duke rolling his neck and shoulders, cracking the bone beneath and while doing so his wings suddenly unfolded. Hulking black, feathery wings with those blinking, red eyes gazed in any and all directions. If he was trying to intimidate and scare Jamison out of questions it was kind of working. The demon moved closer towards him, sitting there on the bed, and Jamison leaned back more, and more until he was almost laying prone on the bed on his back. 

The Duke leaned forward, the weight of his stomach pressing against the man’s legs. “...there are things human beings can’t know. To know would destroy you. What you need to know, is you have my protection. You are safe. Safer than anything alive on this planet. Know that, Jamison Fawkes.” he said in a steady, commanding voice that made Jamison’s knees feel weak.

At least before he jerked, arched his back, and groaned in agony. 

The demon jumped back; his wings stopping him from landing on the ground with a heavy thud. “What’s wrong??” he asked, looking a mix of both terrified and ready to rip someone in half for hurting him.

“Me leg.” he whined, sitting up and rolled up his pant leg to reveal the prosthetic that was his right leg. Up to his calf was missing, replaced with a prosthetic that didn’t fit exactly right but he made do. He removed it and let it drop to the ground with a clank and rolled back, shuddering. “Phantom pains. Been on it too long. Hurts.”

He stood there, awkwardly, before slowly approaching the bed. Now, he knew how to deal with problems. He knew how to attack, and fight, how to rip a soul from a person’s body and make it his own but this? He didn’t know how to deal with his. He climbed onto the massive bed besides the young man and promptly settled besides him, lowering his head until it was close to Jamison’s. Not knowing what to do was not something he was used to, it made him feel inadequate. So he drew himself closer, as if his mere presence would chase the pain away.

“...what’re ya doin mate?” Jamison asked after slowly realizing that the demon was almost on top of him.

“I don’t know.”

There was something almost cute about that. This all powerful demon of Hell with legions at his command not knowing how to help. And the fact he wanted to help? Nobody had ever done that, besides Sister. The thought of her made his eyes feel wet again, and he looked down at his arm. “...in a right mess, aren’t I?” he asked, weakly. “Family’s gone. Home is burning. Arm’s gone weird. Phantom pain. In a new, strange place. Demon on top of me. Really makes ya wonder, don’t ya think?”

“Hmmmf.” was the simple reply.

Jamison had always wondered what sharing his bed with someone would be like. To feel someone else’s warmth pressing against his own. How the mattress would feel beneath him taking the weight of two. Course, when he imagined this happening to him he would see a lot more kissing going on. Wandering hands. A low chuckle from a suitor with a handsome face and warm eyes. Instead he’s got a hulking 600 kg plus demon breathing his hot breath against his face. No kissing here, not at all.

Face burning once again he groans and shuts his eyes. “What are we doin’ here mate?”

“You’re in pain.” 

“Nah, nah... like...” he opened his eyes. “Why’d I think this was a good idea again?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

“What?” Jamison looked to his bed mate.

“You never heard that?”

“Well yeah course I have but I ain’t ever heard that second part. Satisfaction brought it back?” he asked, curious.

“Mm. Not many know it.” the Duke nodded, and even went so far to stroke his chin in thoughtful reflect. “Now you know my knowledge. Don’t go leaking it to everyone.”

Jamison smiled weakly. “I won’t.”

~*~

“Ugly, isn’t he?” Mei asked as she picked up a framed photograph of Jamison with two people she couldn’t recognize. But judging by their outfits, they were important.

“You are too critical of men’s looks.” Zarya said as she took the photograph from the short woman and placed it into a box. “He has lost much. You should be easy on him.”

“He rubs me the wrong way. And that arm.” she muttered as she ducked down to look under his bed. Normally guys hid their naughty stuff under there, but she found nothing. Totally devoid of things. No naughty mags or anything! He really was a square. She got up and moved over to the cupboard, opening it only to find a few casual clothes folded and tossed in there. Zarya placed those too into the box.

“Oh, hello little friend.” Zarya reached into the cupboard one more time and pulled out a tiny, frail, very well loved looking plush. It was a rat. Once upon a time it may have been tan. She stroked its poor little cheek before putting it too into the box. “Cannot be leaving you behind.”

Mei scoffed a little before moving to peer out the window. Sure enough the police were here, but with a little bit of Vampire and Angel magic they had magically turned their backs long enough to allow the women access. Finding Jamison’s room was easy, as it had his name on the door and boy did he live a simple life. A single flimsy old mattress, school books and Bibles lined the lonely little bookshelf, painting a very sorry and quiet life he led. All this action, he was most likely reeling from it. She almost felt sorry for the bible thumper.

“Can we go now?”

Zarya, suddenly, stopped. She seemed to freeze, if only for a second. And for Mei, it was a second.

For Zarya, it was not. The world seemed to stop. The air hung useless in the air. Outside a flock of birds were stuck mid flight. She turned her head and left the room, setting the box down, and made her way downstairs to the crime scene. Yellow tape was everywhere. The body of the woman already collected, same for the man despite that body being nothing but a mere shell left over after a possession. She passed through the tape as if it didn’t matter, and came to a stop as there was somebody standing among the broken pews.

He was incredibly tall. Well over seven feet in height. With his back to her, Zarya could see the flowing cloak he wore. It was, technically, colourless. It was made of space. Stars twinkled in the darkness of it, nebulas glowed their beautiful colours, and if you squinted you may well see an asteroid shoot through on a journey somewhere it did not know. 

“I am surprised to see you took time to come. This must be serious.” Zarya commented.

The figure turned to look down at her and she was met with the face of Death. His face was pale, his hair white, a fairly impressive beard on his cheeks and chin, sideburns one would envy over, and a scarred eye which was white as a burning hot sun. He smiled; well, no that’s wrong. He was always smiling. It seemed as though he was incapable of doing anything but smile. “Ah, there you are my dear!” Death greeted her, and reached two massive arms out to embrace her quickly. Now, unlike the theories, one could touch Death without dropping dead. “I was wondering where you had gotten yourself! We have all been missing you!”

Zarya scoffed a bit.

“Now now don’t be like that. One thousand years is nothing but a blink, after all!” he nudged her chin with his large fist affectionately. As he moved, one could most certainly hear the jingling of something beneath his cloak of space. “She misses you, and wishes you would come back.”

“Not without him.” Zarya replied quietly. “I have found him again. And he is now somewhere safe. This might be it.”

“You said that last time too.” Death countered supportively. “Oh my dear, if you are anything you are resilient. Even in the face of Death you are assured that what you seek is true and pure! That is fortitude the likes of which men could only dream of having!” he laughed a loud, hearty laugh, before shaking his head. “I wish you luck, though. This mess,” Death looked around the room, his smile now seeming sad, yet still did not move from his face. “This is starting something dangerous. I am afraid this will not be the first and last place I will visit like this.”

She didn’t like the sounds of that. “Can I report that?”

“You report what you want to who you want, my dear! You left of your own accord, after all, with Blessings too!”

Zarya huffed, rolling her shoulders, before pausing. “What about Mei?”

“Hmm? What about your little girlfriend?” he asked, playing dumb.

“Has there been word? Has she done right? All these years she has worked, to save her soul and yet there is no word from above. And I know if I go looking, I will not be allowed to leave again.”

“You know them too well.” Death sighed, wistful. “Her trials are her own to seek. Intentions are good, but I do not know if they are what they are after, or what she needs.”

“Hmmmf.” Zarya sighed, dejected. “I do not know them as well as you do.”

“HAH!” he laughed again, loudly. “That is only because we are as old as the other! You know,” he paused and stroked at his chin in a humorous fashion. “I can’t remember just who is the oldest! Is it me? Or them? All I know is once upon a time it was just the two of us before they came up with the idea of making all this with just one big bang.” Death sighed, shaking his head. “Those were the days. Endless void. No words. Just existing. Now there’s so much existing and ending, they made my life hard! But I would not have it any other way. Speaking of work!” reaching below his robes, Death pulled out a long chain that held a key chain. It was the busiest key chain one would ever imagine. Keys of all sorts and types hung from it, and it seemed to be forever losing and replacing them. “I need to get back to it. Can’t linger too long!”

“I understand.” Zarya replied, before offering a weak smile. “Say hello to them for me? Tell them I still love them and will never stop?”

“Always!” Death laughed, before wrapping his cloak around himself and seemed to melt into nothing.

“Zarya!”

Mei frowned up at Zarya who had been staring off at nothing, and set her hands on her hips. “Hey, day dreamer!”

“Uh?” the angel blinked, and looked down to her companion. “Da?”

“I asked if we can go now. We can burn this place tonight, when the people are gone fully. I do not want anyone getting hurt now...” she looked out the window, down at the police and news reporters. 

“Of course.” Zarya picked up the box from the bed, though Mei had no memory of her ever having put it down. This would happen every so often and she had gotten to the point where she didn’t question it because, after all, angels work by their own set of rules that she herself couldn’t begin to understand. Which was fine. There were vampire things angels in turn could not, or would not, try to understand. To them vampires were vermin, blood thirsty monsters who didn’t deserve a second chance no matter what they did. Which is what made doing what she did so very hard.

She hadn’t asked to be made into this thing. But the expedition, that journey that changed her life and ended all of her friends had been the changing point in her life. She’d been the sole survivor of a failed mission and in that blistering cold and howling winds something had been hunting her. Mei could still remember its face; hollow, lifeless, eyes sunken in and sharpened teeth jutting out of its mouth like a monster. Just how something with so little muscle mass had caught up to her in the deep snow she, at the time, could not understand.

The bite would have been fatal if not for the one in a millionth chance of a sudden avalanche. Rushing, thundering snow filled the air with a mighty roar like Nature herself was attacking the monster right back and Mei had been smothered, buried alive in the snow and yet despite her broken bones she did not die. In fact her bones and injuries mended under that snow, far faster than it should have. And when she painstakingly crawled her way out of the snow, and was overcome with the sudden insatiable urge to kill something and eat it raw, she knew she was no longer human.

Zarya told her, decades later, that many people just succumbed to vampirism. They allowed it to take over and lose themselves to the madness and hunger. Yet what Mei did, instead, was use it to hunt others down. She went out into the world to find those vampires who pranced and flounced about spreading their disease or just being murderous monsters who slaughtered with little or no care for people. Mei brought them down again, and again, and again.

Why?

To save her soul. She didn’t want to be damned, she did not want to meet her end no matter what way it would come and suffer an afterlife due to something she hadn’t even had a say in. 

Mei-Ling Zhou was lost on that mountain side with her fellow adventurers, her friends. What was left behind was a woman, a vampire, with a steely resolve to ensure what happened to her would never happen again. And now here she was in the company of a literal Angel yet still incapable of knowing if she had done enough to save her soul. It was more than a little frustrating. Sometimes she felt like crying, screaming, and sometimes even killing something.

But if she gave in just once, if she let it take over for just a slither of a moment she knew she would be forever lost.

“Let’s find somewhere to crash. I don’t feel like zapping back there again today.” Mei mumbled as they slipped out unnoticed, Zarya carrying the box of goodies in her arm like it weighed nothing.

“I need to drop these off.” Zarya said.

“Oh, come on the baby can sleep one night without his fluffy toy.” she retorted, frowning.

“I need to drop these off.” the angel repeated which meant do not argue with me, this is something I have to do.

“You are coddling him.” Mei frowned, though whether she was being serious or just pouting like a little girl would be hard to tell. Regardless of her intentions Zarya strokes her cheek with her thumb, drawing a slow circle against her cool flesh. “You should be coddling me instead.”

“Later, I promise.” Zarya smiled before she bent down to press her lips briefly to Mei’s forehead before stepping back and before Mei could respond, she was gone with a flurry of black wings and pink haze.

“Promises promises.” she smiled before turning, and heading off to find somewhere to roost for the night. It had been a crazy few hours and she really needed to just unwind. Maybe she’ll amuse herself and hang herself upside down from the ceiling for fun. 

_To be continued_


	8. True Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living life in the facility is living up to be something full of training and practice. Jamison is finding his days filled with time spent with the Duke, but he soon learns just what has happened to his arm and what to do with it.

Knowing that you were a test subject, and being monitored, was not the kind of life Jamison had seen himself having a two weeks ago. Back then he’d been an ordinary guy, sure failing at his studies and losing his faith, but he was a good person, wasn’t he? But now here he stood, weeks later in another country, being checked over daily by an omnic and an impressively fastidious, and honestly handsome, doctor while a Demon ghosted him like his own shadow.

For now, Jamison sat by a window, gazing at a scenery that was not truly there. He was several stories below ground after all, so all windows were only here to be aesthetically pleasing and gave you the idea that you were outside getting real sunlight and seeing the world outside. It would drive a saner man insane.

“What’re you looking at?” The Duke broke his quiet contemplation and Jamison jerked his head back to look up to see the massive man standing over him.

Honestly, he’d forgotten he was there. Sometimes the Duke would just go eerily silent and not talk, or even huff to show he was listening much less acknowledging Jamison or the rest of the world.

“Nothin, I guess.” Jamison mumbled before he scratched at his right arm, because it felt itchy but scratching it did no good to help ease the sensation. He’d long since abandoned the black cloth of the Church for more casual gear, wearing tank tops, shorts, seemingly in a more casual stance after coming here. Course he hadn’t entirely abandoned his clothing. It had gone in for tailoring and now hung in his closet neatly, awaiting the day it may be worn again.

Jamison didn’t know if that day would come.

“Not thinkin’ bout the Security woman wanting to talk to you?”

Oh yeah, he’d almost forgotten.

Just the other day while making his way back from another session of ‘treatment’ he’d bumped into a tall, brown skinned, black haired woman who had a tattoo on her cheek which made it look like it was pouring out of her eye. She looked beautiful. But she also looked dangerous; dressed in security clothing head to toe and looked like she could even give the Duke a run for his money if she tried fighting him.

“Greetings.” she had announced.

“G’day?” Jamison replied, nervously.

“Apologies for not coming to speak with you sooner. I am Fareeha Amari. I am head of the Security Division here and I have heard of you and your story.” she pulled a card out from one of her many pockets, and handed it to him while she eyed his large companion. “Come see me on floor 5 tomorrow around midday. Head to room A Class. We will have better opportunity to talk there.”

And with that she was gone. Jamison had held the card in his hands, eyes unfocused, confused.

“...looks like she could crush my head in her biceps.” he commented, weakly.

“I like her.” The Duke announced, watching the spot where she had been walking not too long ago.

Jamison frowned but he wasn’t entirely sure he suddenly felt so annoyed at hearing that. He looked down at himself for a moment; very scrawny and skinny. Sure, he had some muscle tone, but he wasn’t anything to sing and dance over, unless it was a song about how weak he was. No doubt that song and dance would be very popular with Mei.

And now here he stood, floor 5, A Class. It had double doors, metal, protected with key codes and even a hand print and retinal scanner. Jamison eyed it nervously, but hearing the Duke’s ever present heavy breathing behind him had rapidly become a source of comfort. He wasn’t alone here; he’d never be alone again. So, lifting a hand he knocked his knuckles against the door before stepping back, bumping into the Duke’s belly as he did.

“Ah! Sorry, agh,” he stumbled, mumbling his words as he repositioned himself besides his Demonic bodyguard.

Before the Duke could say anything, the door opened and sure enough, there she was once again. Fareeha Amari, this time dressed in a far more casual outfit. For her, it was casual, that’s what mattered. She wore gear one would wear for a workout; sleek black pants that went down to her calf, a muscle shirt that only accentuated her muscles that even Zarya would have to compliment.

He swallowed dryly. Oh God. Was she coming onto him? Was that what this was about? Had she expected him to come alone without the Duke? Clearly, she understood that they were ‘together’. The whole facility seemed to know since nobody had ever questioned the Duke and his persistence to always be within reaching distance of the skinny man from down under. But now, maybe him being here would make the situation even worse.

How do you turn down a woman who could break your arm without trying?

“Ah, good you’re here!” she turned, and walked back into the room. “Come in, come in.”

A normal, extra person would stop to ask if it was okay if they here. The Duke did not hesitate one second and walked in after Jamison, pushing the door shut behind him. If Fareeha was disappointed, it did not show.

This must be her office, Jamison had thought to himself. The room was a stark contrast to the room where he had met Satya. This one was not symmetrical whatsoever. Some workout gear was in one corner, a book case in the other, a door that led to who knows where behind the table which she worked at. There was some organisation to the chaos that was her desk but it must have been very specialized since Jamison would never be able to work it out.

“Take a seat, please!” she gestured to two seats opposite her desk.

Jamison didn’t know if the Duke would sit in the one offered to him, so he was unsurprised that when he sat down in one chair the Duke opted to standing alongside him, hands folded in front of him as he looked down at the woman.

“Now I understand that you are receiving treatment while being here yes?” she asked, curiously.

“Uh, yeah. Ta help with me... radiation and. Um. This.” he looked down at his arm.

“All this testing and we aren’t any closer to understanding. Regardless of that, I have a proposition to make for you Jamison.”

He tilted his head.

“I want you to become an agent for the organization.” Farheea said as she leaned forward, linking her fingers together. “We can train you, offer medical coverage for any and all injuries sustained on duty. I’m offering this because I know you have nowhere to go, and nobody to go to out there. And we can hardly let you leave with your condition. That, and you, need to be continually monitored for that.”

Again, he tilted his head, before looking from her to the Duke, then back again.

“You want me ta... be an agent?”

“Yes. We are always in need of new ones and considering your situation you would be an ideal candidate. Already educated in ways some here would have to study years for, all you need now is physical training in hand to hand combat, some weapons handling...” she trailed off as she saw his expression was not the type she was expecting. He looked lost, and confused. “You don’t want to be an agent?”

“Ta be honest I’m still tryin’ ta work me head around all of this.” he admitted. “I mean... New Dehli? Still can’t believe we’re here and not, I dunno. America.”

That got him a reaction; Farheea snorted in amusement. “America? Do you truly expect America to be the land to keep our planet safe from Demons and monsters?” she asked, snickering at the idea. “No, no. We do not need America to get involved in this. This place has been running for a long time, and will continue to do so for much longer than any of us is alive.”

Present company not included. Jamison thought, as he cast a glance towards the Demon. What had he said before? He had spent one thousand years waiting and looking. Surely he would out live every single person in this building. The idea almost had him feeling sad.

“...you will be paid, of course.” Farheea spoke up. “We are not a charity and all of our agents are compensated accordingly for the missions they go on.”

“Never really had much of a want of money.” Jamison admitted. He’d been taught to try and stray from such material things, the only money he’d ever handled in his life was the charitable funds churchgoers would give every now and then.

“You will be paid.” she repeated, earnestly. “But before you do that, you require the training. We have many number of trainers available on hand, and--”

“I can teach him.”

It was the first few words that the Duke had spoken in her presence; she almost seemed startled at the depth of his voice and how dark it was. She stared at him in silence for a moment, before clearing her throat. “Oh?”

“I’m a bodyguard. Well versed in hand to hand combat. I can teach him now to fight. How to use his enemies’ strengths against them.” and honestly he would rather it be himself teaching Jamison how to fight than someone else. He would never allow someone else to even practice throwing a fist at Jamison.

“...what is your name again, sir?”

“Mako Rutledge.” the Duke answered seamlessly.

“Mako. How long have you been in the bodyguard business?” she asked.

“Long time.”

She took a good, long hard look at him. Those arms were certainly straining that material. He wore sunglasses, why? Sore eyes? Vision problems? Can’t be that much of a bodyguard if he can’t see clearly. But from what her intel told me, Jamison was rarely without the other. They made a cute couple, maybe, if you could see past the age difference between them.

“...alright, we have a training facility I can give you both access to.” she said as she reached down and pulled two cards out of a drawer in her desk, holding them both out for Jamison to take as he was closer to the desk. “You’ll find everything you need there. We also have a firing range to aid you with learning how to handle firearms.”

“Silver bullets?” Duke asked.

She smiled. “Blessed silver bullets. And a variety of others you’ll find out about.”

When he left the room Jamison felt that familiar buzz of confusion and realization his life really was shifting into a gear he hadn’t expected it to. He observed the card, before handing one to Duke who shook his head, insisting he held onto it. Fair enough. He slid them into his pocket, dazedly continuing his walk along the hallways. “...so you’re gonna teach me how to fight?”

“Said I would.” the Duke replied. “Teach you how to throw a punch.”

“I know how ta throw a punch!” Jamison frowned, stopping to look up at the Demon.

“Oo?” he asked, raising both eyebrows. “You’ve thrown a punch?”

He hesitated. “Well uh. Maybe a few times, when I was a kid. But Sister went ‘n taught me how violence begets more violence ‘n all that kinda stuff. Sinful stuff yannow?” of course he knew, who was he talking to again? A Duke out of the Sixth Circle of Hell under some Fallen Angel he didn’t remember the name of.

“C’mere.” moving away, the Duke led him to another hallway, down to the lifts. “We’re going to the floor now.”

“We don’t have to,” Jamison spluttered.

“We do. This is important.”

Gaining access was easy and honestly the place had a Gym feeling in the air and it made Jamison anxious. He was struck with the sudden desire to do some crunches, lift some weights, or run on a treadmill heading nowhere even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to do any of them for too long without collapsing in a wheezy, sweaty mess.

He was led to the middle of the room where there were mats on the floor to help stop any bad bruising when some poor soul was thrown to the floor in a show of strength and dexterity.

It was only now that the Duke turned to face him, and promptly pointed to his face. “Punch me.”

“What?”

“Put all you got into your arm and punch me.”

“No!”

“Why? Don’t know how?” the Demon smiled toothily. “Never had to throw a punch in your life, have you? Weak little boy hiding behind the Sisters skirts when the boys would tease you for your missing hair and leg.”

Now that was a little too personal, and a little too truthful. Jamison felt his ears burn.

“Well she ain’t here to hide behind.” Duke urged. “You need to learn how to fight, so fight.”

“I don’t want to hit you.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Scared?”

“You’re a Demon!” Jamison said, “You’d be like punching a brick wall I’ve seen what you can take, I ain’t breaking a hand!”

The Duke snorted in his usual way, and shook his head. Even if he couldn’t see it, Jamison could feel the towering man rolling his eyes in his head. “Relax. Nothing will happen.”

“I…” the once-to-be priest almost looked defeated, before looking down at his hands. “Which… which one would I even hit you with?”

“What do you write with?”

“Both.”

Now that was a little impressive but if the Duke was, he didn’t show it. “Tell you what. Use your left, since your right one is still a bit of a mystery to everyone and I’d hate to have it blow up in my face.”

What proceeded was a strange situation for Jamison. He readied his fist to take a swing, but the Duke interrupted and reached forward to grab his hand and repositioned his thumb. “Don’t hold it like that you’ll hurt your thumb. Cover your index with it but that’s it. Also fix your posture, spread your feet a bit more, put your centre of gravity here…”

The Duke moved behind him, putting him into position like a toy to be played with. Large hands guided his arms, and he hated how they felt as they trailed down one of his arms to prop it into position. Jamison said nothing, but allowed himself to be posed like a dummy in a store window. Now having been prepped into the proper position, he looked to the Duke. “Can I throw a punch now?”

“No. Now I have to show you how to handle your weight as you do and depending on how you’re positioning yourself, just where you should punch me in the face. I mean, what do you want to do. Knock some teeth out? Break a nose? Bruise a cheek?”

And it continued. The Duke instructed him. How to move forward with his punch, to follow through with it, what to do with his arm and how to counter his weight for when he landed the perfect blow to someone’s face.

All of this took a long time, and Jamison was feeling his joints begin to lock into place by the time the very long detailed conversation and instruction was over and done with. Feeling a little rattled, Jamison whined. “Now can I punch you?”

“Yes.”

Finally, after so much built up and tension, Jamison let his fist fly. He followed his gravity, carried himself forward, and slammed his fist into the other’s face. The sound was like hitting meat with a mallet and Jamison felt the shock of the impact travel up his arm all the way to his shoulder.

Then the pain hit and he staggered back, grabbing at his wrist, and proceeded to swear in a manner that anyone who’d been born and raised in a church would raise their eyebrows at. The Duke watched him stagger back and lifted a hand to rub it against his cheek; not that it hurt, but it was more like an instinctual thing.

“YOU SAID IT WOULDN’T HURT!” Jamison screamed.

“Not as much as it would. What, you think punching a guy is easy?” the Duke asked, before grinning sharply, and cracked his knuckles. “Boy. We’re just getting started.”

And so, the training began. True to his word to Fareeha, the Duke trained Jamison. Their sessions were not short, nor easy. They couldn’t be, considering the kind of work that he would be set out to do. Fighting monsters? Demons? Creatures that would have sent his forefathers running for the safety of churches, only to realize the bricks and mortar offered no safety? Jamison had to be ready, he had to be fit mentally, physically, spiritually.

“C’mon.”

How many weeks had they been practising now? Jamison was sure it had been over a month. Each day he found himself in that same room with the Duke, learning how to dodge left, right hooks, leg sweeps, all sorts of things that he never would have known if not for being here. At the end of every session, Jamison found himself sweating and needing a bottle of water or two.

“This might help with that.” Duke offered one day, when he saw Jamison flushed and red in the face. “Here.”

Sooner than he knew it, Jamison was without his shirt. Not only that, but the Duke did the same.

He was ashamed to say that he’d never realized that the Duke had pierced nipples, because now they were very clearly pierced. Then again, the Demon hadn’t made a habit of being shirtless around him before, always dressed in that suit of his looking intimidatingly debonair. Jamison felt his face burn as he gazed upon this man standing before him, knuckles formed, stance wide, head lowered and that chest on full display. There was his stomach too, how could one ignore it? Large and round, the belly button protruding in such a way that almost made him look like a heavily pregnant woman.

It was tattooed. A devilish looking boar complete with horns tattooed over his stomach, flames erupting around it, jagged metal… it suited him it really did.

“You going to blush all day or are we going to keep going?” the Demon asked, his thick lips pulling back into a playful, wicked smile.

He was going to argue that of course he wasn’t blushing but that’d be a lie above all others, as he could feel his face all but ready to melt off his skull. Jamison coughed a bit as he rubbed a hand against his own bare chest. No tattoos, or piercings to be found here. His body was as whole as it had ever been, and considering he was missing half one of his leg that said something.

“Keep going.” Jamison stammered weakly, pulling his own fists back, clenching his teeth as he did. “C’mon ya big lug. Show me what you got today.”

The Duke was suddenly on him, slamming his fist forwards and down aiming to strike him in the forehead or cheek to knock him down but Jamison leaped backwards to avoid the throw. He doubled around and back, slamming his elbow down against the exposed head of the Demon and it only just grazed as he, too, avoided the brute of the attack.

Jamison felt his heart hammering fast enough to bust from his chest as the swings and kicks came faster, and faster. At the start of this, he wouldn’t have been able to keep up this long with the Demon. A few swings and movements and he would be panting, weak, and wanting a break. Now he was pushing himself harder, stronger, and faster. It was empowering, invigorating, and he wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything.

While he was readily using his left fist to swing, it was when he was suddenly knocked off balance by a swiping of the Duke’s leg that he countered his unbalancing, stepped forward, and swung with his right. The same adrenaline was rushing, surging him forward, and the second his fist made contact with the Demons face that something happened.

A sudden explosion. Not a massive, ground breaking one. But it was an actual burst of fire, a blast of light, and the Demon was thrown back by the blast and the smell of pork filled the air for the briefest of seconds. Jamison staggered back in alarm, while the Duke slammed against the wall and the sheer force knocked the heavy weights that were suspended on racks attached to the wall to fall off with a clattering noise that filled the air.

“What the HELL was that?” the Duke asked as he lifted his head, sunglasses off of his face revealing his burning white eyes and his face... his cheek which had taken the brunt of the blow looked like it had been blasted away. Skin peeled off, muscle burned brown, and a flash of black bone beneath the muscle.

Horrified, Jamison watched as the muscle began to regrow, knitting itself back together, and skin grew back over the injury and soon it looked as though nothing had happened. 

The Demon was on him, large hands gripping at his shoulders as burning white eyes bored into those orange orbs of flames. “What did you just do?” he asks, his voice no longer the fairly warm and familiar tone but something far more dangerous.

“I-I don’t know!” Jamison stammered, giving a weak attempt to pull free and away from the other but found the task impossible. The Duke was incredibly strong, far stronger than himself. “I punched ya, like I been doing all this time I don’t—“

“You used your right arm. It reacted.” The Duke cut him off, releasing one hand in order to grip Jamison’s right arm and lifted it to look at it critically. His grip was tight and as it just begun to hurt, the Duke released him. Not because he noticed the pain on Jamison’s face but his palm was burning like he’d just thrust it into a truly holy fire. “I see...”

“See? See what, what the Hell was that? Am I dying?” Jamison asked, voice shaking in terror. 

“No.” The Duke answered. “I wouldn’t allow that. But this,” he looked to the gold and black coated arm as he finally replaced his sunglasses. “I think it’s the night of the power bestowed on you when you slew that Demon.”

Looking to his arm, expecting some kind of sign of power, Jamison saw nothing. His arm was the same it had always been, since that attack. Since the night of Sisters murder and the day he had first met the Duke. He knew it wasn’t connected but he still could not help but think that it was. If a Duke from Hell hadn’t found him, would Sister still be alive? Or was she fated to die regardless? It broke his heart to contemplate it for too long, so he stopped himself.

The Duke saw that flicker of doubt, of pain, of anger. He snorted loudly and gripped at Jamison’s left arm tightly. “They’re dead and gone and I know you think it’s me. My fault. That I drew them to you. Your family. Do it,” he snarled, pulling his lips back to show sharp, dangerous teeth. “It’s because of me, you know it’s true. I lured them in. They killed your mother and she died a horrible painful death, ripped to shreds and left to bleed out like some filthy animal on a slaughter fl--”

The right hand connected with his jaw and the explosion mixed with the cracking sound sent ripples throughout the room. Once again the Duke, a massively heavy and powerful Demon from Hell was sent flying. The stink of pork filled the air for far longer, and when the smoke from the blast cleared Jamison staggered back, gagging on his bile because this time there was black blood and pieces of... meat on the floor.

It would be better to call them meat than flesh as that was what it was. Pieces of the Duke were scattered from the point of impact, soaked in their own black blood as the parts twitched now and then. Meanwhile the Duke himself was on his back near the fallen pieces of equipment, smoke emitting from the large gaping mess that was his face, and jaw. His whole jaw was dislocated and hanging from his face, black blood pooling down onto the ground which hissed as his blood touched it.

The human man was gone in a few moments, his transformation far different than normal. It would be fluid and natural but this one was incredibly unnatural. Jamison could hear bones cracking, flesh tearing, and the unfurling of wings. The three headed beast stumbled to his feet, unsteady for the first time. The injury was gone now; having been absorbed into his form as he’d shifted. Black blood still stained the ground but when the Duke walked over it, the liquid seemed to be sucked up and into his front and back legs.

Jamison felt his feet stumble, his legs give way beneath him, and he slammed into the mat. He felt half ready to throw up as the beast lowered those three massive heads over him, noses flaring, eyes glaring, the emotion on each animal different from the other. Trembling, feeling fear wash over that burning anger that had all but eaten his very soul, Jamison stared up at the creature.

“Well done.”

He was barely aware when the beast drew closer and wrapped those thick arms around him, drawing him flush against that large, warm chest. The vivid imagery of the punch, of the reaction, the smell and just how it had come from him. A large hand stroked itself against the back of his head as his temple was pushed against the scarred, hairy chest and Jamison continued to stare ahead even when a wet wolf's nose pressed against him, then a large tongue licked at his head as well. Honestly he felt just emotionally and physically gutted.

“H.. how did I...” Jamison finally spoke, his blond hair slicked into a weird position due to that spit.

“That arm of yours holds more power than you, or those doctors, think.” the Duke replied, the two remaining heads looking around the room. While still holding Jamison in one arm he made his way over to the scattered weights, and worked at affixing them to the wall. “That power in there, seems to have more than a little explosive when it touches something Demonic when you strike to kill.”

“I wasn’t strikin’ ta kill you!” he spluttered, pulling his head back. “You just... you....” he said those things to make him mad. To get his heart racing. To get the anger rushing through his blood so when he struck him, his arm reacted as he thought it would.

Shit, this guy was smart.

But he still looked down to his arm, the right one, splattered with black blood that mingled with the red and gold of the skin. Jamison closed a fist over his own, before something hit him. “Shit!” he pulled away from that large, thick, warm arm and stumbled to the ground. “Shift back, shift back!! They got cameras here, they’ll see ya, they’ll figure out what ya are!”

“They won’t.” the Duke replied.

“What??” Jamison pointed up towards one of the several round cameras up on the ceiling. “Those? They’re always on!”

“Oh relax.” A new voice had Jamison spin around in a panic, almost losing his footing entirely, but found there was nobody else in the room. He looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from, but the voice continued. “My Lord Duke has more in his pocket than you think.”

It was at that moment that a woman seemed to materialize in front of him. She had olive brown skin, long black hair, and was dressed in a purple suit. But she didn’t keep that appearance up for long as horns sprouted from her forehead, spikes protruded from her shoulders and a very long tail emerged from beneath the skirt. Despite this, Jamison couldn’t help but recognize her. The first day they’d been here, the Duke had given her a fairly intimidating glare that had sent her running.

Her nails were long and purple, and it looked like she had lines trailing up to her knuckles. She smiled a fairly toothy smile at the shirtless young man but it immediately melted the second the Duke was in her peripheral vision. She dropped to one knee, head lowered. “The cameras are hacked. They are showing old footage of the two of you practising from ages back. Unless the security team are highly perceptive, they won’t realize the switch. And judging by those clowns, they won’t.”

“Who is this? Who are you? What the Hell’s goin’ on?” Jamison, suddenly feeling a little self conscious over being shirtless, brought both hands up to cover his chest.

“A mole.” the Duke replied. “Sombra. Glad to see you doing your job for once.”

Sombra scoffed as she lifted her head, but when she locked eyes with the three beasts heads she immediately dropped it again, though her grin remained in place. “I live to please, My Lord Duke.”

“Damn right.” 

“That’s quite an arm he has.” Sombra said, eyes on the floor. 

“You’ll forget you saw that if you like living.” the Duke said evenly, shifting from the three headed monster back to the human man. Jamison almost felt a little disappointed he’d put the shirt and jacket back on in the shift but no need to focus on that too long. He looked to the woman, unsure of what to think or say about her being here. So the facility wasn’t safe; there was a Demon under their nose. Is she the reason why the Duke could walk in? Clearly she was why footage of them, well, of Duke in his true self, would never be released. How much could a Demon trust another Demon? What rank was she? High, low? Too many questions.

“Continue as you were.” the Duke said as he pulled up the shirt Jamison was wearing. “And remember. Tell anyone and I’ll eat your soul.”

Sombra nodded and before Jamison’s eyes she shifted back into a human, smiled at them both, curtseyed before phasing into nothing once again. Jamison stood there, unblinking and holding his shirt, before looking to the Duke. “I feel... very tired suddenly.”

“That’s expected. C’mon.” he pressed a hand to the small of his back, and began to lead him towards the exit. “Let’s get you cleaned up and off your leg before it starts to hurt you.”

“...thanks...”

This was routine, also. After working out to the point of Jamison’s body aching they would abandon the world and return to the room. There he’d shed some of his clothing and wind up on the bed and today was no different. He lay there in silent contemplation before he lifted his right arm and looked at it. No more black blood. But still it glimmered and glowed with black and gold hues.

And, like normal, the Duke joined him on the bed. It sagged under the immense weight, and he felt the pressure of the large Demon pressing itself against him like it normally did. Jamison lay there, rigid as normal, staring at anything but the Duke as his mind continued to buzz and bubble. 

“...how long you been wanting to show me she’s here?” he asked, quietly.

“Since I spotted her.” the Duke responded honestly. “Knowing she’s here, knowing I got her in my pocket is good. So, I can now do this.”

Jamison squawked like a parrot as the human besides him suddenly turned into the three headed beast. The bed really did suffer suddenly as the huge, hulking creature took his place. And, like in the training room, large arms wrapped around him and held him close as three different heads found themselves somewhere comfortable to settle themselves on the bed. 

“...you’re heavy.” Jamison mumbled quietly, but still, slowly moved to wrap an arm over one of those massive ones to pull it closer.

Should he feel shame that he felt comfort from this Demon? That he liked him being around now, that he felt more than a little comfortable. That sometimes he’d--no, he couldn’t think that. It was wrong with a capital W and he couldn’t think like that at all. No matter what the Demon said, because Demons can lie more so than people can. Regardless of all these thoughts, Jamison pressed his temple against that large arm and shut his eyes. “...I still don’t know about...” he glanced to his arm. “...you really think it’s just like that with evil things when I’m mad?”

“You caved my cheek in and dislodged my jaw.” the Duke pointed out, the boar and horse eyes shut while the wolf had those burning white eyes open and unblinking as it kept guard. “Nobody has been able to do that damage to me in centuries. At least, somebody who isn’t a higher tier Demon.”

“So is Sombra...”

“She’s low. Very low. She follows orders less she knows what’s good for her.” the Duke sneered before the wolf head lowered itself to nudge its cold nose once again against Jamison’s forehead. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Your heart’s racing. You’re worried.”

Jamison grumbled and rolled away a little, but his eyes drifted back to gaze at the Demon in silence. So he had a power that could damage high rank Demons as if it were nothing. He knew how to fight better now, and he knew that he would be placed into his first mission sooner rather than later. If it let slip he could do this, what would Angie and Zenyatta do to him? Throw him under some kind of observation? Place him in some medically induced coma so they could study him better? The idea terrified him, and he subconsciously drew himself closer to the Duke’s large, protective arm.

“...she’ll be right.” the Duke whispered after a few moments silence, and the wolf’s tongue lapped itself against the top of Jamison’s head. “You’ll see.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

_To be continued_


	9. Sign of Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamison is set to head off for his first mission. A simple one, surely, they wouldn't throw him in the deep end right off the bat would they?

The dining area didn’t look like it was a part of an underground, secret organization that excelled in keeping the world safe from monsters and Demons at all. One could expect it to look more like a barrack hall, with flat tables, terrible food served on silver food trays, and chairs that were uncomfortable to sit on. Instead it looked, and tasted, like a five star restaurant nestled in the heart of Paris.

The tables were elegant and always set up to look like they were ready to house a four course meal. Waitresses and Waiters, both human and omnic alike, worked round the hour twenty four hours a day as there were agents that were out on missions at odd hours on a fairly regular basis. Jamison normally kept to his own table, naturally accompanied by the Duke, and ate in relative silence while the Demon did his whole bodyguard thing. Also known as standing by the table, massive arms folded behind his back or over his chest, eyes scanning the area as if daring anyone to even try and throw a morsel of food his way.

Today however Jamison lifted his head to look around the room. There were various agents he’d never spoken with, and he spotted Zarya and Mei across the way but Mei didn’t seem too interested in coming over to talk, despite Zarya’s obvious want to. He hummed a bit, eyes looking over the posh room until he spotted the woman he’d finally properly met the day before.

He uses the term woman loosely of course, for Sombra was no woman. A Demon, a spy, sitting among an organization as large and powerful as this right under their nose. On one hand, he should report her. Reveal this wolf in sheep’s clothing but then what? Then the Duke’s only means of being himself would be gone, his connection lost to who knows what they do to Demons here. Not to mention the questions that would be shot his way; just how did he know she was a Demon? What was the lead? Just how long had she been here? 

Glancing up at the Duke, Jamison watched his face and just as the Duke was turning his head to look down at him he felt someone standing incredibly close suddenly. Head snapping Jamison found himself face to stomach with Sombra, the woman carrying a tray which held a thick cigar and a whiskey.

“Hola.” she greeted as she set the tray down on the table. “Keeping busy I see.”

“Bloke’s gotta eat.” Jamison mumbled, eyeing the cigar. “Uh. I don’t smoke, or drink-”

“It’s not for you choir boy.” Somba snapped before lowering her gaze a moment; she couldn’t very well drop to her knees here out in public but she had to show respect somehow. “I figured he could do with some love.”

Jamison opened his mouth to counter that but the Duke reached across him to pick up the cigar, which had come with a box of matches. Biting off one end he spat it across the room, struck up the match on seemingly nothing but his own thumb, and proceeded to light the cigar which he now held between his clenched teeth. Ignoring the enjoyment of toxic fumes, Jamison averted his gaze to the woman. 

“How long’ve you been here?” he asked, smelling the stink of cigar smoke already beginning to surround him.

“Long enough.” Sombra replied coyly. He already had a feeling that asking her questions wouldn’t amount to anything. She almost seemed able to pick up on his thoughts as she grinned toothily at him. “Aw, what’s wrong? Expecting me to spill my life story to you little guy?”

“Little? I’m taller than-”

“Figure it’ll just take a few questions about me for me to tell you a sob story? Sorry,” Sombra dared to glance up at the Duke as he was taking a shot of whiskey. “But you may be my Lord Duke’s favourite little pet, but I don’t have to answer all your questions.” she added that on a more hushed tone. She may well be talking smack in front of a fairly powerful Duke, but she also would rather keep her head connected to her neck.

Pet? Pet? Jamison felt his face burn at that kind of accusation and he was opening his mouth to once again counter her words but the woman was already walking away, pressing a finger to one of her ears. Her other hand held up her finger in a ‘shush’ way and, with that, she was gone. Somehow she seemed to melt into nothing among the tables that surrounded them and all what was left of her presence was the stink of cigar smoke.

“She’s cute.” the Duke commented. “She’s having fun I think.”

“Fun? At who, me?” Jamison asked, looking very much insulted.

“Who else?” was the coy reply before the Duke breathed out a huge plume of grey smoke that seemed to coil around Jamison’s face.

He began to cough loudly, and he waved the terrible smelling stuff out of his face. “Must you??” 

“I must.” the Duke smiled toothily down at him before wedging the cigar between his teeth again.

“Smoking’s a dirty habit.” Jamison muttered, waving a hand in front of his face.

“I know something worse.”

Once again before he could snap back, Jamison was interrupted. This time by Zarya.

“Hello you two!” she greeted, her mere presence alone seemingly able to waft away the smell of smoke. “How are you both?”

“Besides slowly suffocating? Fine.” Jamison wheezed, water in his eyes.

“Wonderful, for I bring you good news!” she clasped her hands together. “You two are going on first mission! With Mei! I am so proud!”

He blinked a few times before looking from the towering angelic woman to the chubby Chinese woman across the room. She didn’t look at him, instead her focus was on the cup in her hand which she was drinking from. Turning back, he stared at Zarya. “Well don’t she look happy about it?”

Zarya chuckled a little, embarrassed. “Well, it was not her choice. They did not want to send our newest recruit off to a mission without someone of experience, and Mei is one of the most experienced here. She will help you!”

Mei in charge. Jamison didn’t know if he liked the thought of that. He looked to Zarya again with the kind of expression a disappointed child would give their parent, but she beamed at him regardless seemingly unable to read his expression. That, or she was choosing to ignore it. Turning her beaming smile towards the Duke, the angel reached out and punched his shoulder with her fist. “And you! Be on your best behaviour, yes?”

He grunted at her as he bit on the butt of his cigar, his nostrils flaring and smoke shooting out of both of them.

Later, Jamison opened up his closet and stared at the clothing within. He had begun so adept at wearing casual clothing, civilian gear, that the idea of putting on his old stuff again was unsettling. The last time he wore that black clothing it had been stained with the blood of his family, and the arm was burned away. Since then a tailor had seen to it, and the clothing was as good as new; even the arm was reaffixed with precise stitching. Honestly he half expected it to be a replacement entirely but when he checked, the tag was the same worn faded material with the initials ‘J.F’ written in faded pen.

Sister had written that for him. He rubbed his thumb against the faded letters, before looking down at the thumb he was using. His right. Fingernails were still a thing of the past for him, the thick, shiny shell glimmered in the light of the room and he frowned at it. 

“Are you ready yet?”

He glanced at the Duke who was stood at the door, but had his back to him. True to his word he didn’t like keeping too far a distance between them, but at least he gave him his privacy when he was getting dressed in the mornings. For now, he stood facing the door, unmoving.

“Am I meant to wear it or can I wear... whatever?” Jamison asked.

“Figured you’d feel more comfortable in it.” the Duke commented, eyes fixed on the door.

“...” he was going out there to look professional. And the clothing was good and airy for movement, he knew that from experience. Gritting his teeth, he stripped off his shirt and jeans and pulled on the black clothing, pulling it all into place before grabbing the beaded rosary necklace and slowly drew it over his neck. Turning back to the closet and stared at himself in the tall mirror. He didn’t feel like himself at all in this clothing. Sure, he knew his face, he knew it better than anyone else but dressed in this clothing he suddenly felt out of sorts. He wrapped his hands around the crucifix on his necklace and shut his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Large, warm and familiar hands settled on his shoulders but Jamison did not flinch. He knew who it was. He could feel his presence in a room without even having to open his eyes. There was that smell too; the Duke had a smell and he’d learned it. Even now with it tainted by the cigar smoke he knew it. 

“Ready to head to the hanger?” the Duke asked.

“No.”

“Let’s go.”

The hanger was a place Jamison had been to only once before during a tour through the organization. It was incredibly big, naturally set up at the top of the organization. When needed the above empty car park would slot open, allowing a carrier to exit the area. Normally this was done under the cover of night, with some sort of high tech camouflage that made it invisible to everyone. He hadn’t really been paying attention.

But now there was a carrier waiting for them. Automatic pilots. GPS tracking. High tech stuff he didn’t understand once more and standing next to it, was Mei. Dressed in a prim and proper suit, and holding a finger to her ear while talking into her wrist. She glanced at the two, seeing their approach, before moving back up the ramp and into the carrier.

The interior was fairly large and spacious. There was two tables, one by the entrance way, another across from it which projected a holographic vision of the planet. Hanging on the walls were first aid kids, backpacks, parachutes, and other such things. Also extra places to sit and lock yourself into place with seat belts.

Mei was sat at one of the tables, since the carrier wasn’t taking off just yet. “Yes. Okay. Bye.” she lowered her hand and rested it on the table, looking across at the two men. “So, are you ready?”

“No.” Jamison answered honestly.

“I appreciate the honesty. This is not my idea of a fun Friday night either.” Mei brushes some loose brown hair behind her ear. “But this is a small mission. Nothing big for your first try. Possible possession of an old man, we go in, clean him out, job done. Easy.”

Jamison settled into a seat, struggling with the straps to pull free until the Duke grabbed them, pulled them down, and fastened them into place around his waist as if he was a baby in a car chair. “Thanks.” he grumbled, before looking over to Mei. “Done a lotta exorcisms then huh?”

“Oh, we’re not exorcising. We’re killing him.”

“What?” Jamison asks, quietly, shakily. His eyes snap to the Duke, mouth parted enough for him to make out the slight gap between his two top teeth, before they snap back to Mei. “You’re killing an old man? You said he might be possessed!”

“If he is, we kill him.” Mei retorts as the doors to the carrier slowly ease shut with a wheeze of compressed air. “Exorcisms haven’t been done for hundreds of years. Least, proper ones.” she turns her head to look out the thick glass window on the door, which still showed the hanger outside. “The ones you’d hear about in the news going wrong, or movies based off supposed ‘exorcisms’ weren’t real ones.”

“So we just kill the old man?” Jamison asks to clarify. “We could save him.”

“You don’t listen to me.” Mei snapped. “Nobody knows how it’s done anymore. Not even Zarya. It wasn’t her expertise. So even she can’t save a soul that is possessed. The only way is to kill the host. It is not pretty. But it is what we have to do.”

He didn’t like the sound of this at all. An old man, possessed by a Demon and instead of any attempt to save him he’ll just be killed. But this was how it was done. Was it right? They had a literal angel in this organization, a being of divine light and the power of God on her side yet she abides this to happen. Leaning forward, Jamison felt his stomach suddenly lurch and it had nothing to do with the storm of thoughts plaguing his mind but the carrier finally rising.

Mei and the Duke both weren’t wearing seat belts but if you’re a vampire or a Demon maybe the laws of physics and air traffic safety just didn’t apply to you. Jamison was almost jealous through his queasyness from the take off.

While he was silently fighting with his dinner wanting to resurface, Duke made his way over to Mei and stood by the table.

“Seems pretty lofty for a place that claims to be saving and protecting the world to be sending out assassination squads to kill off people who’ve had the rotten luck of being possessed.” he said flatly.

“This coming from a literal Demon from Hell itself?” Mei snaps back, looking over her glasses at him with that condescending look only a vampire could pull forth.

“I wasn’t always from Hell.” the Duke snarls back.

She blinked a few times before realization crossed her face. Thinking back, she remembered Zarya when she had first caught wind of the Duke. The look on her face; desperate hope that Mei couldn’t understand at that time. Now it suddenly clicked into place. She knew him not just as a Demon but something more, something that he was before. The two seemingly immortal beings stared at one another in silence. Mei looked over to Jamison, silently asking if he knew this. The answer was a stern snort from the large man; a definite no. 

Now she could just drop this knowledge onto the man. But what would that get her? And honestly if a priest in training didn’t know when a Demon had been an Angel or something equally impressive in Heaven, what kind of student was he? Not a very smart one. And besides, it’d be nice to be able to Lord something over him for a little while. She snorts and looks away. “Well, regardless it will be only a few hours until we reach the location.”

The Duke approached Jamison and sat himself down in front of him; the seats offered were far too small for him to even fit one buttock into, so he knew better.

“It’s okay.” he said quietly. “You won’t have to do this. I can tell Mei will be more than happy to be the one to end him if it comes to that.”

“It’s not about who does it.” Jamison said angrily, hands wrapped around his stomach as he leaned forward in his seat. “An old man, mate... don’t he deserve a respectful death and not put down like a dog with rabies?”

The Duke offered a shrug but he knew the man didn’t see it. He huffed, and pushed his hand through his hair. “Sometimes it’s better to put someone out of their misery then let them suffer. It’s cruel to expect him to keep living, something controlling and puppeteering him like this possession would. Being possessed... it’s like being stuck in a nightmare. You see your body doing things you’d never do and you got no way of waking up. You’re stuck. Locked in place forced to watch and that’s... you don’t want an old guy going through that, do you?”

“Stop tryin’ to justify this.” 

The Duke fell silent and turned his head away. He hadn’t seen Jamison so angry about something since the passing of the woman in the church. And while he could comfort him through that anger and pain he knew he couldn’t do the same here. So he gave him space, instead choosing to move his way up to the flight deck so he could watch the controllers and panels blink as the autopilot ferried them to their location.

Soon the ship was dropping down and Jamison once again prayed for relief from his suffering. As the door eased open Mei stepped out and looked around; there was nothing but sand for miles to see. The dark sky above, the shining white moon, it only made the cool in the air worse not that the vampire could complain. Her life was nothing but cold temperatures, a stinging reminder of just how she wound up like this.

Jamison staggered out, tripping over his prosthetic and hitting the sand with a groan. He was hoisted easily by the Duke, set straight, and he watched as the Demon stalked forward and stood there besides the vampire. The large man looked around, judging the area with great contempt. “Backwater.”

“Where are we?” Jamison asked weakly.

“You don’t need to know that.” Mei said as she walked. “Come on. Our target’s not far.”

The Duke glanced skywards, looking at the stars and constellations that glittered above the desert they’d found themselves in. He breathed in, and out before looking to the young man dressed in black. “We’re in the Sahara Desert.”

“How do you know?” he asked, raising both eyebrows.

“I know stars.”

With that simple and short answer Jamison fell into step behind the Demon, anxious fingers playing with the rosary still worn around his neck. He didn’t like this place. The air was far too cold and he could feel his very soul telling him to run and leave; this wasn’t a place meant for him yet here he was in the presence of the Duke, and Mei.

As they climbed a small hill of sand, a house came into view not too far from them. The earth around the house seemed firmer; there were plants sprouting out of the ground but they didn’t seem healthy. Withered and dark, even the grass was an unhealthy brown and this was desert grass; the harsh stuff that was meant to survive this harsh environment without much effort yet this looked strained and in pain.

The house itself looked like it had seen better days. Scattered around it were pots, vases, a broken bike which only made it look more ramshackled. Walls had once been painted but it was peeled and cracked, revealing the bricks underneath which were worn and suffering wear and tear from the weather. Was there even a roof? This was no way to live a life, even out here in the middle of nowhere.

“YOU!”

An old voice broke the silence and the rotted door was thrown open and Jamison smelled the man before he saw him. The utter rank smell of someone who hasn’t washed in ages filled the air and Jamison almost felt the vile grime crawl into his nostrils as the old man came into view. He was very skinny, brandishing a stick with skeletal hands with nails that were far too long for him, his balding head revealed skin covered in liver spots and boils. Eyes were wild and haunted, unblinking. His clothing was filthy as the rest of him.

“SO!” his voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “YOU’VE COME TO STEAL MY WALLPAPER!”

Mei jumped back in alarm, and the Duke raised both eyebrows.

The old man brandished his stick threateningly, growling to reveal aged yellow teeth. “Knew you’d come again!! Thinkin’ you can take it!” and, far faster than an old man of his age should move, he dove forward and beamed Mei right up the head with the staff.

She was more startled than hurt, falling backwards onto the sand as the cut to her forehead began to trickle blood. The Duke watched her, little to no intentions of helping her up, before looking to the old man. The two of them locked eyes and the old man growled again, his breath so putrid you could smell it a mile away if he opened wide. Again he moved, this time towards the Duke, but he was met with a large palm slamming itself into his face and the old man was pushed down onto the sand.

Yet still he swung that stick, striking the Duke upside the head, but it didn’t have any effect like it did with Mei. 

He opened his mouth, the Duke did, and began to speak but his voice was much deeper than it normally was. You could almost feel the might and power coming off of his words as he spoke, commanding and in control despite the flailing, stinky old man. **“Who are you?”**

“GET OFF!” the old man screamed, favoring to scratch a filthy clawed hand at the Duke’s arm. “YA FAT BASTARD GET OFF!”

Jamison moved to Mei to help her up but she shot him a glare that read ‘don’t touch me’ so she obeyed her silent command, and moved to the Duke and the old man. He tentatively stood there, unsure of what he should do. Did they even have a weapon? Mei was without any form of weaponry on her and while he knew what the Duke could turn into, was it safe for him to do it? Jamison knew he could never take the life of someone even a man as old and sick as this one.

“Who is he?” Jamison dared to ask.

“I don’t know. Hell is as large as Earth you figure I know every single Demon?” the Duke snarled and in that moment of answering the question the staff struck him straight between the eyes. There was a blast of sudden power and the massive man was thrown back as if he weighed nothing. He hit the sand but that could not, and would not stop his momentum. Still he rolled, just barely missing flattening poor Mei before he slammed to a stop against some rocks.

“ROH’DHOG!” so rarely did he ever say his name and it tasted strange on his tongue and sounded stranger still to his ears.

The old man was on his feet with the same kind of agility one would expect of an Olympian gymnast. He struck out, the staff whizzing just shy of breaking Jamison’s pointed nose and the young man bolted back. A few months back he would have been incapable of dodging such a blow; he made a mental note to thank the Duke for going as hard as he did when sparring with him.

He cackled loudly as he jumped forward again, and with every strike of his staff Jamison brought his hands up to block and push it back as he did more of that fancy footwork. Mei, finally finding her own footing, leaped in and made a grab for the old man’s neck but he bent forward, allowing her to slam into his back so he could throw her off with barely a glance at her. He spun once more, and this time when he thrust forward with an open palm it grappled Jamison right around the neck and his grip was instantly tight and already he could feel the wind being squeezed out of him.

Gaze already fogging over into darkness, Jamison lifted his right arm, unaware of how his arm seemed to be glowing with power but what he was aware of was his fist slamming into the old man’s face.

The explosion knocked Mei clear off of her feet once more, the woman gasping and moaning in pain as she slammed against the ramshackled old house that smelt like a garbage dump. What was that, where had it come from? Dazed, she was just getting to her feet to witness the old man flat on his back, face caving in on itself as blood and bone was scattered around him. Smoke emitted off of him, coiling into the night sky and Mei stared with wide eyes, unable to process what just happened.

It was then his whole head cracked open and something black, and dripping came bursting out of him. Double his size it was, with a multitude of eyes that seemed to take up the entirety of his face and when its mouth opened rows of teeth sharp as knives grew and protruded. Smoke poured out of open, gaping pores that littered its body that stunk three times as worse as the old man had. Mouth splitting open it shrieked loudly and advanced on the stunned, shaken priest to be.

He lashed out with a clawed hand, and it came so incredibly close to Jamison he saw his life flash before his eyes but something far larger than him barrelled into the multi-eyed Demon. The Duke who’d been slammed against that rock was now back and to his full force, his huge black wings out stretched and three animal heads that roared and snarled with pure malice and anger.

Mei had only seen the Duke in his form once before, when he’d been fighting Zarya but she could tell compared to that, this fight was honest. This fight was real and vicious, the way the multi-headed Duke dug his claws into the flesh of the Demon, tearing muscle and skin which only filled the air further still with putrid black smoke. The way he’d fought Zarya, it had almost seemed like a spar between the two. If Zarya had meant to damn him she would have smoked him where he’d stood back then, instead she had fought with him.

Again she thinks back to his admission. He hadn’t come from Hell originally.

She looked to Jamison who was now sitting, arms up, protecting himself. The sleeve of his right arm had been burned away, revealing the entirety of his arm which had been the source of the explosion. It smoked in the aftermaths, glowing dimly in the night and she watched it, transfixed for a moment. How had he felled the old man like that? And that explosion, was that him? Or his arm? She had so many questions but no time to answer them as she looked to the two Demons fighting and opened her mouth to speak, to give a warning, before a cloud of swirling, screeching creatures burst forth from the house.

Mei gasped as they seemed to fill the sky around the two fighting Demons, before she gave a frustrated grunt and spread her arms out. “That’s enough of the lost damsel.” she said to herself before, she too, erupted into pieces. In her place, black bats filled the space that had once been Mei-Ling Zhou. They screeched as their echo location helped them see in the darkness, and they immediately latched onto any and all things that weren’t familiar. Tiny sharp teeth bit at the larger creatures, clawed at eyes with the claws of their wings. 

Two fighting swirling clouds of flapping creatures mixed with that of two great Demons battling it out in the sands were a sight one would not soon forget. With the bright moon gleaming down upon them all like a watchful eye illuminated each bite, every claw, and every single drop of blood that may stain the sands.

And there was Jamison, breath racing in his lungs as he watched the spectacle. He had too seen Mei bust into bats and the sight felt like a slap to the face. Of course he knew she was a vampire but what kind of powers did vampires truly hold? The movies and stories always shown them to be capable of transformation into but one bat, but never a crowd of them. One of them flew very close to his face and he ducked down, the bat squeaking and hissing as one of the shapeless flapping beasts suddenly tackled it out of the air and the two landed to the ground in a whirlwind of fighting and biting.

“So much for an easy job!” The Duke’s voice echoed through Jamison’s head as the white wolf’s fangs sunk themselves into the throat of the other Demon.

“Ah!” Mei’s gasp of utter pain filled the air as several of her bats began to fall from the sky. While injuries to her human form gave her little less to worry about, these attacks were far more effective. Each bat was a part of herself and with so many suddenly taking damage she was being reminded what pain truly was, and she did not like it.

“Enough of this.” growled the Duke. With a forceful push by his wings he caused his attacker to stumble back, slamming against the crumbling walls of the house which buckled beneath his weight. With each mouth dripping putrid blood the Duke reared up onto his back legs, brought his mighty arms up and brought them down upon his own body. Jamison watched in abject horror as the Demon tore open his own stomach, and had to look away unable to face the sight of such a garish display of innards and inner muscles being exposed to the night air.

He didn’t witness the hooks flying out of his stomach like angered wasps from a broken nest. While there were chains affixed, there was something otherworldly about them. If you tried to grab one your hand may well go straight through the metal as if it weren’t even there. But these hooks flew with precision. They tore through the air in every which way direction, narrowing avoiding the tiny flapping bats to hook themselves into the flesh of the screeching beasts. 

But instead of yanking them back, they tore the very souls from their being. A multitude of screeching monsters fell from the air, dead weight the second a hook would pass through them. Whenever a hook vanished into his stomach it would burst out again, once more seeking hungry prey as the carrier of them all, the Grand Duke Roh'Dhog of The Sixth Circle of Hell in the House of the Fallen Kokabiel Himself, leaped upon the still shaken form of his prey.

Just when Jamison had found his feet he wasn’t sure, less so when he’d made his way to the fallen old man. The last he saw him, his head had been caved in on itself and the ground bloodied around him. Yet now, here, he was intact. There he lay, eyes open yet unblinking, staring while his chest rose and fell with every labored breath. His hands were trembling, grasping against his skeletal chest as drool dribbled from his parted lips to his beard.

He stared at the man, before reaching down, and dared to stroke his left hand through his hair. The old man remained unaffected. Kneeling down, rather than crouching over him, Jamison took a deep breath and began to speak. His words were lost on everyone around him, far too preoccupied with their own personal battles be them by the small flying bats or the great massive beasts that tore and carved at one another with gaping mouths and gnashing teeth.

The Duke grabbed the gnashing beast, whose mouth now latched itself between the throats of the wolf and boar, sinking his own claws into the writhing creatures shoulder before readying his free claw. He drew it back, before slamming it forward, and into, the Demon’s stomach before it pushes its way up through its internal organs to erupt out through the upper part of its back. Black, vile blood splattered out against the rupturing hand to stain the sand below which was already clogged and caked in filth. 

The stench was amazing.

A light erupted from where the old man and Jamison were sat, and the creature be it from being impaled by the Duke or the brightness of the light suddenly erupted into pained screeching. It flailed its limbs, trying to pull itself free of the lodged arm but found itself incapable of it. The world began to dim, and it fought harder still but that was when another person entered the fray. Invisible to the Duke, to Jamison, as well as to Mei, the being was tall and grew only taller, and larger with every movement of his body.

Death threw his hand into his cloak and dislodged a key from within. It looked ancient and worn, dripping with filth. He plunged his hand, and the key, into the struggling creatures chest. Something unlocked and all of its blinking eyes faded into darkness as the Demon fell to nothing. It began to dissolve, starting around the cavity going from its arm to its back and it only rapidly dissolve faster and faster, the stench overpowering enough for the Duke to stumble backwards.

And with a blast of bright light, the body was gone. The what was left of the flying creatures bodies were gone too, wiped out of existence with the loss of their boss. That putrid stink that had clogged their noses was gone as if it had never existed and the only smell to remain was that of the sand and stone.

The cloud of bats reformed around one another and after a moment and a burst of black smoke, Mei was back. Clothing a little torn and worse for wear, the woman tumbled backwards onto her ass with a huff. But she had no time to recover, instead she looked around, getting to her feet as quick as she could but any and all signs of the battle was gone. No blood, no bodies, no nothing.

The hulking three headed Demon collapsed onto his knees, breathing heavily as the torn open stomach slowly began to knit itself together. Strands of muscle grew, stretching and connecting and soon the muscle was back, and the skin regrew in a surprisingly quick fashion despite how gruesome the self inflicted injury was. He shook his heads to clear his mind before he turned his head, looking to where Jamison was, to see if he was safe.

Jamison was knelt over the old man, stroking his head still, before moving and slowly closed his open eyes.

“He’s gone.” Jamison mumbled.

“Should be.” the Duke said as he approached, shrinking in size so he wasn’t towering over the others so much, but remained in his true form regardless. “You caved his face in.”

“...it does not look like it.” Mei commented as she approached. She was right. For an old man who had taken a blast to the face, whose face was very much caved in not too long ago, he looked perfectly fine. His face was intact, nothing was broken, or bleeding. Mei crouched, looking at him, before looking to Jamison. “How did you do that?”

Jamison bit his bottom lip. “Uhh.. w... which...?”

“Everything! You blew his face up! Then you come over here and touch him and he is whole again? What did you do? How did you do this?” she demands. “You better tell me, now!”

He stares at her for a moment before looking to the Duke. The three heads eyes are on him, but the horse turns its gaze to focus on the vampire as his body travels forward, putting himself between the two and opening his wings out in a protective manner. “It’s what his arm does. It damages unholy abominations. Blows em away. Found that out the hard way.”

“His arm--” Mei stops, then snaps a finger. “No wonder I feel like it’s always judging me!”

“What?” Jamison blinked.

“I hate your arm, I hate how it makes me feel. You feel it too, don’t you?” she asks the Duke, looking up at his multitude of heads and unsure which one to focus on.

The Duke says nothing, instead turning back, and looking down at the old man. He shifted back into his human appearance, though his glasses were missing so his pure white eyes were visible for a rare moment. Reaching down, he touched his hand to the man’s head. “You undid the damage. Somehow. What did you do?”

“I just... Talked to him. I dunno it’s all a blur of stuff.” Jamison truly had no memory of what he’d said. It was almost as if his words weren’t his own, speaking things to a dying man that had the power to not only heal his face but remove the Demon from him too. Had it been an exorcism? Had his arm spoken through the rest of him, this power he barely understood? There was so much that didn’t make any sense and his chest was feeling tight.

Mei groaned and turned away, pressing a hand to her forehead. She swore in Chinese. “Either way. Mission completed, Demon expelled, old man dead.” she cast a glance at what was left of his house and peered in. The wall paper he’d been shouting about was now torn, looking as if things had burst forth from beneath it. Those smaller Demons, maybe? Was this a nest? Was that a mother they’d just put down? She’d have to write this all up in her report...

“You gonna... t-tell em?”

“I have to.”

“No, no you don’t.” the Duke said, moving to stand over her. “They find out his arm can do this stuff they’ll lock him up and subject him to experiments.”

“You do not know that.” Mei said sourly.

“I know humans enough. They find something new and scary that they don’t understand they cut it open to find out what makes it tick. They,” he points a finger towards Jamison. “Are not touching him. And if you tell them what’s happened here, I will kill you.”

Not the first time Mei had been threatened death before. It was a fairly regular thing. But with it coming from this Demon, after witnessing just what he was capable of, she wasn’t so sure if he was just handing her an empty threat. No matter what he was before, Angel or not, now he was a Demon and not one to be trifled with. She glared at him. “...you Demons are nothing but bullies. You push and take what you want and drive people as far as they can.”

“We fill our roles. We do as we’re told.” the Duke snaps.

“Were you told to come up here? To watch him? Treat him like some special project?” she demands, gesturing towards where Jamison was still knelt, hand grabbing his chest as his lungs burned.

**“THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”**

Mei jumped back at the sudden ferocity of his voice felt as if the gates of Hell themselves had suddenly flung open and all of the flames and malice of the inhabitants were pouring out, rushing right for her. She almost felt the physical attack but it didn’t knock her down; little did now a days. She opened her mouth to counter but froze as a distant explosion filled the air.

“Ugh now what?”

Turned out, it was the carrier. Something, most likely one of the flying beasts, had gotten to it during the heat of battle and had decided to turn itself into some sort of Gremlin. Smoke was billowing out from under the hoods that led to the engine, and when Mei rushed inside she found a tangle of wires and assortment of destruction in her wake. She groaned, slapping a hand against her face. “Ugh. Great. This will take forever to fix, and I do not know if I can...”

So they were, by extension, stuck. Hopefully the carrier set out a distress beacon while it was being destroyed, but she didn’t know how well that would have gone as reception on her communicator was really terrible out here. This was just more good news on top of the news she’d learnt tonight; not only was the Duke quite possibly from Heaven but Jamison had the power to dispel evil not only with his right hand but his left as well in two very different ways.

No wonder the Duke was so interested in him. Perhaps he was fixing to lure him to his side, and take him to Hell and make something of him. If that was his plan she’d best let Zarya know as soon as possible to keep an extra close eye on this Duke of hers.

Hearing movement, she turned to see the Duke bent over the young man. Ugh, had he fainted? He was limp in his arms and she could hear his heart racing within his chest faster than it normally would, and that blood of his rushing through his veins. Ugh... she’d been injured, which sucked, but also made her hungry. If it wasn’t for the packs on the carrier she may almost want to maybe consider drinking the guy’s blood if it didn’t mean being pummelled into dust by the Duke if she so much as showed her fangs to him.

“You two going to be okay here?” she asked.

“Yeah. Why?” the Duke asked as he carried the unconscious Jamison closer to the broken down carrier.

“I am going to head off and try to find a town with decent reception just to make sure they know we need help. You two can manage alright, yes?” she asked.

“Course.”

With that, she transformed once more into a cloud of small squeaking bats. They took off into the clear night sky, and the Duke keenly watched until she was nothing but a distant dot on the horizon. The cool night air ruffled his hair and he felt Jamison give a tremble in his arms so rather than stand around in the cold desert night, he opted for climbing back into the carrier and manually pulled the door shut. It’ll be a good few hours till sun up. They can begin to worry more then.

_To be continued_


	10. Intimacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovering from a huge battle is never easy, less so when you're forced to battle your own inner demons in the aftermath with the help OF a demon.

“I thought I was over passing out...” Jamison muttered as he felt the world slowly drifting back to him, eyes peeling open weakly. 

“Doesn’t look like it.” the Duke responded, looking down at him. 

Surprising nobody, Jamison awoke finding himself in the arms of the Demon, on the floor of the carrier. He lifted his arm to rub at his eyes before he remembered something and sat bolt upright with wide eyes. “The old man,” he said as he pulled free of the Duke’s embrace. “Where is he?”

“He’s dead.” 

Jamison sat there, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You did it. During the fight.”

The young man turned his head away, expression turning into a dazed, unfocused stare as his brain tried to focus and sort itself out of the confused mess it had found itself. How had he killed him? He had no memory of it. All he can remember was the crazed man attacking him and the fight turning dangerous leading to him having to use his right hand but after that majority of the fight was a hazy blur of motions and barely readable memories.

“...are you alright?”

“No.” Jamison said, “I’m a murderer. I killed a man, I... I...”

The Duke shifted closer, gripping Jamison’s upper arms, turning him so the two were facing one another. “You did a mercy killing. That demon had its claws in him so long he hadn’t eaten, drank, or slept in days. He was already practically dead and there was no saving him from that. His suffering ended because of you. Don’t think of it like that, because it isn’t.”

“Where is he?” the man asked.

“Where? Dead, he’s-”

“His body.”

Not five minutes later the two were stood by the remains of both the house, and the old man. There he lay in the sand, clutching his stick and looking like he was ready to open his eyes again any moment now. Jamison stood there a moment before he knelt down and using his thumb drew a cross between the old man’s eyes. “...we have to bury him.”

“What?”

“We have to bury him. We’re not gonna leave his body out to the elements ‘n animals.” Jamison said sternly, standing back up. “Don’t deserve that.” The Demon hesitated and Jamison spun around to face him, tilting his head back in order to do just that. “He’s out here alone, he ain’t got any family, and he deserves a funeral so we’re gonna give him one. Get me a sheet.”

The Duke was confused, but he reluctantly made his way back to the carrier to find one. Naturally he did this very quickly; not one to leave Jamison unprotected for too long. When he returned with one, he followed the instructions he was given. Wrap the old man in it, and when he was told to dig a hole for the body he did just that. Easy job, when he could transform into a ten foot tall plus Demon that made digging far easier when he transformed his hands to match that of a wolf.

Picking up the body, the Duke lowered the wrapped old man into the ground.

“We commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Jamison said aloud.

The two of them covered the body with the dug up sand, and grabbing a brick from the house Jamison used it as a makeshift headstone. He clasped his hands together, and brought them to his forehead. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

The Duke resisted the urge to snort. He stood there, hands clasped together as he partook in a funeral for a man whose name he didn’t even know. 

“...who killed him, Roh’Dhog?” Jamison asks quietly after a few moments of silent reflection.

“You did.” the Duke replied.

“No, no. The demon. Who was it?”

Now the Duke could snort, and he did, before looking down at the man with the torn sleeve. “You think I know every Demon in Hell, boy?” he asks. “Look. I know you know enough about where I’m from but let me tell you, Hell is huge. It’s vast, expansive, as populated as your Earth is if not more so. And I’m only a Duke out of the Sixth Circle. There’s Nine in total, remember? That’s a lotta circles filled with Demons and I only know those in my own house and from my own area. That bloke,” he gestured to the vague shape of the demon. “I dunno who he was. I asked his name he refused to tell me meaning he was either higher ranked than me, or so old he couldn’t remember his name so he gave none.”

“Even if he could give a name how do you know he wouldn’t lie?” Jamison asked.

“Not all of us are liars. Demons are surprisingly honest if asked the right questions.” the Duke admitted.

“...but you still won’t tell me who I am.” 

“You know who you are.” he began turning away, heading back towards the carrier.

“No, I don’t!” Jamison shouted this, anger in his voice, enough for the Demon to stop and look back at him with raised eyebrows. “I don’t know who I am! I used ta think I did, I was Jamison Fawkes. Kid found in the rubble of the omnium explosion ‘n taken in by the church cuz I had no family left! Was gonna be a priest, was gonna study hard and not do wrong and be good and pure like I’m meant to be!” his voice trembled as he brought up his arms, making clawing gestures. “Now I’m some kinda agent for an organisation who kills people because they’re possessed! This isn’t what I signed up for, this isn’t me!”

The Duke looked at him with a sympathetic expression.

“And you, you know what I am what I’m meant to be but you won’t tell me! Cuz I can’t face it? Cuz I gotta find it on my own? You know I can’t!”

“Yes you can.”

“No!” Jamison begged, lungs aching. “I can’t even face what I am now, how am I meant to be who I’m meant to be?”

The Duke stood there, silently, as the desert existed around him. It was getting colder, and his clothing ruffled in the cold wind as it rushed against him. He saw the anguish and the loss in Jamison’s face, and heard it in his voice. If his heart was still as whole as it once had been, he may have felt a true ache for him. The Demon took a deep breath. “You need to accept who you are.”

“I can’t.”

“But I told you,” he turned to face him fully. “Heaven and Hell both don’t care. You humans are the only creatures on this planet who think being gay is wrong.”

Jamison visibly flinched at the word. “You’re lying.”

“What, so I can lure you to Hell with gay sex?” the Demon asked, frowning.

“Your kind lies. You can’t deny that!” 

“I don’t.” the Duke retorted. “But humans lie just as much if not more. Lie to themselves, like you. Lie to others. About any and everything. That’s the thing though, lies come undone. Eventually.” he moved to Jamison, standing over him. “You being gay doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Jamison fretted, brought both hands up to his head and gripped his forehead as tears began to build in his eyes. “I... I’m dirty, I’m-”

“Be dirty if you want to be but being gay isn’t dirty. It’s who you are. I seen it, the way you look at some blokes. How you look at me, even.” the Duke said quietly in a softer tone. “You want true proof it isn’t wrong? Zarya and Mei. One’s a literal Angel from Heaven here on Earth and they love one another. You really think an Angel as high and mighty as Zarya would go against God’s teachings?”

“Marriage is meant to be between woman ‘n man. Adam and Eve. It ain’t...”

“Jamison.”

The Duke was closer now, hands on his shoulders as he leaned down. “There was no Adam and Eve. There was a big bang and there was creation from God at the start but everything else is how science claims it is. The Bible isn’t the words of Jesus, or God, but written by Man. Ugly Men who had power and wanted more. The teachings now a days barely reflect what’s true, what’s real, the true heart and soul of what Jesus was preaching. Jesus was a very real human man whose words have been twisted and image distorted, and God is very real but they aren’t always watching and always judging. You won’t make them cross that you’re attracted to men. That is not a sin.”

His breathing was doing the wrong thing, also known as not letting enough oxygen into his lungs. Jamison leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the Duke’s chest and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes as he sniffed harshly, trying to keep it all in but found it was like trying to hold the ocean back with a sieve. The Duke’s large hand passed itself through his blond hair, catching a few stands between his fingers but he was careful as he always was. Jamison was already suffering hair loss, he didn’t need to suffer more of it.

“...you say such nice things.” Jamison whispered after a moment, bringing both hands up to grip against the Demon’s sides. “With that forked tongue.”

“I don’t have a forked tongue you know that.” the Duke chided softly.

“I know. I’m teasin.” came the muffled reply.

The two eventually began to walk back towards the broken down carrier, arms to themselves at first but Jamison reached out with his right hand and gently gripped the cuff of the Duke’s sleeve. While he was watching where he stepped, he really wasn’t. Not truly. His gaze was ahead of him, eyes unfocused, mind too busy and far too lost in a cloud of its own thoughts to process too much too fast.

They had just begun to ascend the entrance to the carrier when Jamison spoke at last.

“My first crush was on Joseph Keen when I was seven years old.” he said, rather surprisingly.

The Duke stopped short, and turned his head to look at him. 

Jamison had come to a stop on the ramp, hand still tightly gripping the larger man’s cuff. 

“He had red hair ‘n freckles. Made me laugh. Never made fun of me leg and I loved him much as a seven year old could. Never told him, course. He moved away when I was ten ‘n I ain’t ever seen him since but I remember his blue eyes ‘n his laugh.” Jamison spoke evenly, but it seemed as though he was going through a catalogue of memories and plucking things out at random. “Then there was Mark Richardson who was an altar boy with me. Fat kid everyone picked on but him ‘n me we were different and we got along. Good guy. Hell of a voice he shoulda been a part of the Choir but he was an altar boy instead like me.”

The Duke remained silent.

“Then we begun to learn ‘bout them ‘Gays’. That AIDS was made by God to punish them. That they didn’t have a place in God’s house ‘n I was so... scared. I was a good boy I never did anythin’ wrong but suddenly I felt like being me was the worst thing I could be.” Jamison tightened his grip slowly. “I was sinful ‘n wrong ‘n bad and those thoughts I’d have were sinfully bad. God hated me. Jesus hated me. Mother Mary hated me.” 

The Duke said nothing even when his jacket sleeve began to slowly burn. That right hand was funnelling a lot of emotions right now.

“I couldn’t tell anyone, not even confessional was safe cuz the Father knew me voice more than anyone else’s. I’d pray every night to God ta make me normal. To take away what I felt for Mark, what I’d felt for Joseph. It never happened.” his voice was shaking a bit now, eyes still staring ahead. “I’ve fought with bein’ a gay man since I was twelve years old and I’m so tired, Roh’dhog. I’m so... tired.”

He liked it when he spoke his name. He’d never deny that.

“You can stop fighting now.”

Tears streaked down Jamison’s face, staining the front of his tunic. He lifted his head at last to look at the other man with a very tired expression. “Can I?” he asked, weakly.

“Hell yes.”

There was a smile slowly crawling itself over his face, and Jamison stepped closer to the Duke and wrapped both of his arms around him as far as they could go, as he pressed his face against his chest. His grip was tight, and hot, but the Duke did not fight it nor did he pull away. To do so would be devastating. The way he was holding the Duke, the Demon had no way to hug him back but maybe that was fine. This was more than fine for now, as it was for Jamison’s sake less so than his own.

He eventually pulled back, looking even more tired. “Can we sleep?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

Even if they were covered in sand, dried blood and sweat, the two wound up together on the upper deck where there were cots and beds to sleep on during long missions. The mattresses were top quality but naturally wheezed beneath the immense weight of the Duke, but accommodated as much as possible. Jamison slept in his clothes, hiding his face into the chest of the demon as his sore body got the well deserved sleep it had earned today.

~*~

The clouds swirled and churned like food thrown into a blender. Their colours were unlike any he had seen before but he didn’t have much time to observe them as he soared through the clouds. Wind in his hair and on his face, Jamison offered up a thrilled laugh as he did a spin mid air before aiming downwards and flew as fast as he could manage. He felt the wind resistance hitting his face but it could not stop his momentum.

He felt a familiar presence with him but before he could look around, there was a sudden clap of thunder and lightning. The bright white energy jolted before him, and he passed right through and felt the currents surge through his body. 

The pain never came. Warmth encased him, and Jamison had never felt such a strong feeling of being loved than he did now. Affection and love washed over him and he felt so very warm, and safe. Even when the sensation began to feel distant, the warmth remained, that sense of unquestioning love never left him.

Brightness began to blur his vision, and as his eyes began to slowly open what he saw before him was a four winged beast. Yet before he could tell anything more about the vision it was gone, replaced with that of the face of the Duke who was as he’d left him; laying on the mattress besides him.

He groaned, squeezing his eye shut, before yanking the blanket over his head. “What time is it.”

“It’s only been two hours.”

“What!” Jamison tossed the blanket down, hair a literal mess. “No way.”

“Hmm. Sun’s not even close to coming up yet.”

Yet he felt so rested. Honestly he felt like he’d just slept a full nine hours or something like that but it had really only been two. Offering a groan, Jamison rested his head down on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “...s’weird having dreams. Only had a few since you came long yet I can remember them.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah... I was flyin’. But then there was a storm but I didn’t feel afraid at all.” he looked down a little, and spotted his right arm. “Oh for--did I destroy a sleeve again??” Jamison sat up, looking down at his poor right arm sleeve which had been blasted away.

“I’d suggest wearing shirtless things. Or tank tops.” the Demon grinned toothily.

“Oh yeah you’d like that huh. Seein’ bit more skin of me.” 

“Not denying it.” he grinned.

Face turning a lovely shade of red, Jamison stammered a second. They were in the same bed; not an altogether strange thing but with that one sentence the fact they were so close had Jamison’s heart racing. But he didn’t move away. “Ya cheeky flirt.”

The Duke laughed and rolled backwards onto his back, stretching a bit. 

And then Jamison realized the Duke was shirtless. His jacket, vest, and shirt were gone. His chest, hairy as it always was, there on full display and those piercings in his nipples glinting in the light offered by the dim lighting of the upper deck. Jamison gripped the blanket as he slowly laid back down again, silently wishing he’d had the forethought to do the same.

“You can take your tunic off if you want.”

He couldn’t remember if the Duke could read minds, or read wants. Was it that, or maybe he was just that readable? Jamison offered up a nervous little laugh, playing with the blanket. “Yeah you’d really like that...”

“You would too.”

“Well. No denyin’.”

Jamison sat there, unmoving for but a moment before he very carefully pulled the tunic up and over his head. This would be the second time he’d been shirtless before the other; every other time it would happen the Duke would give him privacy by means of a shut door, or turning his back to him save for that one sparring match. Never had he truly seen him this close, this intimately. And while he was still fairly thin compared to the incredibly thick and muscular Demon, Jamison wasn’t what you’d call weak.

Those months had given him muscles, lean ones, but had done nothing to help hide the scarring on his body. Marks and imprints left from a very rough early start in life had left his body with some scars that would never truly fade. 

The Duke was silent but reached out, and placed his hand to the others side. He’d touched him before of course, but those were spars. They had action and purpose and fuel. Training. Not a touch like this, not a warm touch like this. Jamison felt his whole being tremble at the touch by those large, warm hands.

“Touch me more.”

Jamison didn’t remember saying those words yet he heard them coming from his lips. He trembled more still as both of those large hands were now touching his body, one smoothing itself around to his lower back while the other ghosted up his chest to trail fingers against his neck. Pressing closer to his hands still, Jamison shifted himself closer, reaching his own hands out to touch the warm body of the other.

“Why are you so warm...” Jamison murmured, reaching a hand up to trace a finger over one of his ears.

“Because Hell is freezing cold.” the Demon replied honestly.

“...huh.”

He gasped audibly when the Duke moved in closer, his lips touching against his collarbone. Oh boy. Oh man, oh man. Jamison drew himself inwards a bit involuntarily, realizing this was like the fantasies he’d been having since he was a teenager. Just being touched. Held by a large, strong man whose hands were rough but warm. He rubbed his legs together, a desperate move to try and relieve a bit of tension from building too big.

“What are we doing?” he asked quietly, maybe tilting his head to his chin and lips press to the forehead of the Demon.

“Touching.” was the simple response. “We can stop if you want.”

The way Jamison’s (still clothed) legs parted, and he wrapped his one whole leg against the side of the other was a strong indicator he wasn’t one for stopping soon. And he, for one, was not one to stop it either. He had not known closeness like this for many a while, and the fact these were Jamison’s hands burning against his skin made him feel far more alive than he had in eons. There was no pride, no sign of strength or power here between them. 

It was intimacy and that was priceless.

Jamison felt himself being rolled onto his back, the blanket that had been covering the both of them falling from them to expose more flesh. Which was fine because it gave him more to grasp desperately as if he were a drowning man, and hanging onto Duke was the only means in which he would remain alive. He could not deny any more he was enamored by him, his body, be it his human or his monstrous demonic form. No matter what form he took those arms remained the same, large, thick, bulging with muscles that could crush some poor fool’s head like a grape if he felt so inclined. 

With every movement he felt, his muscles seemed to ripple with power. He could see it even under those clothes he normally wore. Just how much raw power did this Demon possess? The fight from the night before, so much of it is a blur but never the Duke. How powerful he was, how towering and intimidating. With his labored breaths, his roars, and those multitude of heads each one's eyes glowing like stars in the sky. He felt aroused at the very thought of them, of him, but he did not want that here. 

Sexual touch could wait as long as he wanted it to.

“How long have you known...” Jamison whispered as he pushed his fingers up through the pure snow white hair of the man. “...that I was attracted to you...”

“I could tell the physical attraction from day three.” the Duke answered honestly, “But I have felt you grow closer to me ever since. I’ve seen your smiles, how you draw closer to me like a comet being pulled to a sun. And I’ve loved it.”

“I still don’t understand what you see...” 

Thick, warm lips pressed to his chest once more and Jamison trembled at it. Never had he ever been touched in such ways. He had only dared to day dream of it and even then those thoughts were very far and few between. But for it to be transpiring now, with this man who he’d been pulled to, it was almost overwhelming. 

If he were clear in the head he would question if this was deliberate. If all of this had been a means to lure him out like those fake ducks hunters use. Maybe it was all orchestrated from the start to get him like this, vulnerable and needy grasping at him like a lifeline in a world that felt so conflicting and confusing to his mind. But would that give him reason to pause? Most unlikely for, loathe as he was to admit it, Jamison was touch starved. 

And this was just enough touching that he could manage. Any more than this he may well have spontaneously combusted.

“You... you said you’d been waiting a thousand years for me...” Jamison spoke softly, evenly, as he ran a hand down the length of the Demon’s back but stopped himself from pushing any further. 

“Mm.”

“But I’m... only twenty five. Or thereabouts.” he ran his thumb in slow circles as he spoke. “Why a thousand?”

The Duke was unmoving and Jamison swore to himself. He’d ruined it. The Demon would pull back from him, withdraw his warmth and his hands entirely. He couldn’t bare it if that happened, for he almost felt like he’d been getting drunk off of all of this touching and to rob him of the source would be cruelty of the highest degree. 

But the Demon did not pull back. Instead he pressed closer, face slowly lifting so their cheeks brushed and for a fraction of a second Jamison fought with the want to suddenly kiss him. He did not, and he hated himself for hesitating as the white eyed man gazed at him.

“...I have been looking for your soul for one thousand years. Souls, Jamison,” he says as he leans down carefully, slowly, pressing some weight down upon him just like he’d done that first night in the organisation. “Your soul has been reborn again, and again, and I have been trying to find you. But Earth is big. And even with all my power, and connections, I could never find you until now.”

“...that’d be frustratin’.” Jamison said after a few seconds silence.

“Very.”

But why. He wanted to ask. Why so long? Why me? What is it that you know about me that I can’t be told? 

“...I ain’t the anti-Christ, am I?” Jamison suddenly asked. “Is that why I can destroy things? Is that my power?”

“Anti-Christ?” the Duke asked, gobsmacked. He snorted, then spluttered, then laughed. “Jamison you are no Anti-Christ! Nor are you Jesus reborn. That brat is just like his parent Lucifer, frozen in the icy lakes of Hell and won’t be set free. No, Jamison. You aren’t the son of Lucifer. If you were, I would have found you faster and easier than opening a door.”

Jamison blinked a few times, before pressing a palm against one of those thick, strong arms. “Lucifer’s frozen in ice?”

“That’s why Hell’s so cold. The prison for Lucifer keeps that six winged beast sealed away. When they fell, they fell hard and fast and was punished by God just like the books say. The only way Lucifer is breaking free of that imprisonment was if the end of days would begin and from my intelligence, that isn’t going to be happening ever. Both Heaven and Hell are fairly fond of Earth, so destroying the entire thing isn’t on anyone's agenda.”

“Oh.”

“The only thing that will be Earth's downfall is when the Sun expands so much it will engulf the planet. But humanity may well be extinct or out in the stars by that time.” the Duke rolled a little, carefully, tilting his head so he was looking skywards towards the ceiling but you could all but envision the stars in his eyes. “Can’t wait to see it.”

“...how old are you, Roh’Dhog?”

The Duke paused in thought. “Far older than one thousand years.” he said, quietly.

“Do you know?”

“Course I do. I came into being one hundred and forty thousand, eight hundred and sixteen years ago.” 

“Damn. You look good for your age.”

The Duke barked a laugh, lips pulling back to smile widely, showing off that tooth gap of his once more. “Thank you! I do look after myself.” reaching a hand down he touches Jamison’s face, trailing his finger down his jaw. “Can’t let myself go, after all.”

“I’m bothin’ ya with so many questions...” Jamison said quietly, “Sorry.”

“No. I like your questions. They’re good ones.”

“Oh good.” Jamison grinned a little, raising a hand to, daringly, draw its fingertip around one of his piercings. The Duke looked down at this, watching the golden black finger trail against the golden ring. He was silent as said finger hooked through the loop, but he did offer a small noise when there was a tug. “Hate to be a bother.” added the young man.

The Duke exhaled slowly, before reaching down and gripped the pillow besides Jamison’s head and lowered himself, the two men now very close face to face. Jamison could feel the warm breath of the other pressing against his skin. Eyes locked and in doing so Jamison let his finger slip free, only to settle his hand against the others large stomach. Again he was gripped with the want to kiss him, and he felt himself lift his head but the Duke pulled back and turned his head away.

“Mei will be back soon. I can smell her.”

Jamison blinked a few times before his face immediately turned a red hue. Oh God. If she came to the carrier to find them like this; he’d never live down the embarrassment. He was the one to flail first, to almost fall out of the bed entirely, and grabbed his tunic.

“Ugh it’s filthy,” he said as he finally looked at the clothing and realized how covered in sand it was, and filth like blood. “How’d you even put up with me like this?”

“Because.” the Duke replied. I love you. Was left unsaid.

Thankfully there was spare clothing, and a shower up here. And like normal, as routine, as Jamison stripped down to go into the shower to clean himself up and change into nice clean clothes, the Duke turned his back and kept guard. But unlike other times, Jamison truly did wish that the man would chance a peek. For him to be daring and try to catch a glimpse of him fully naked. It made him feel incredibly warm and hot, so the nice cool shower was the best solution to this situation than allow it to grow any further.

The carrier door slid open as Mei re-entered, looking a little more better for wear than when she left. The Duke greeted her, keeping his position on the steps so she couldn’t get up to the top section without having to climb over him.

“Did you find a signal?” he asks.

“Thankfully yes. Took me an hour to find a town with one strong enough to send the message off. They will be sending a pick up shortly, it should not take too long.” she said, reaching up to pull the pin from her hair and allowed it to flow freely.

“I need to ask you again if you’re going to report on what Jamison was capable of.” the Duke spoke carefully. “His arm. His abilities.”

“I should.” Mei said bluntly. “He could be a danger to everyone. What if his power goes off one day?”

“It won’t.” 

“How do you know that? Have you dealt with a thing like this before?” she demanded.

“A long time ago. This is like it. Emotion fuelled. He can’t damage if he’s happy.”

“Oh so we all have to play around him and act nice so little priest does not go and blow us all up?” Mei asked. “That is impossible, the world is not going to be all nice and rosy to him because he has a condition! You need to teach him how to deal with it proper, aren’t you his carer?”

The Duke frowned behind the sunglasses he’d re-equipped. “It’s more than that.”

Mei blinked in surprise, before a slow smile crossed her face. “Have you seduced him to the dark side?” she asked playfully.

“I don’t operate like that.” the Duke countered harshly. “I’m not collecting or seducing anyone for that place.”

“You’ve defected?” Mei asked, looking genuinely shocked. 

“Technically.”

“An agent! A spy!” she clasped her hands together. “Ooh, exciting! But why?”

“For him.”

Mei scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I thought it would be something worthwhile.”

“It is.”

“Wow. You got it bad.” Mei scoffed, setting her hands on her hips. “It’s almost cute.”

“Hmmm. I will tell him what I am soon. He deserves to know as much as I can afford to tell him.” the Duke turns around, as he hears the shower water stopping. “How long until help?”

“A few more hours. We can get some rest until then.” Mei yawns and pats her hand over her open mouth.

“Understood. And Mei. Tell them about his arm and I will level your organisation and bathe in everyone’s blood. Including Zarya’s. She underestimates what I’ve learned in my time away.” with that he vanishes up the stairs entirely, and shut the door behind him.

Mei stood there for a moment before growling. “Demons.” she mutters as she moves up to the flight control panel to see if she could science the heck out of it a little while they await help to arrive.

_To be continued_


	11. Hunger and Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are beginning to pick up. There are revelations and discoveries, on top of that the Duke and Jamison take the biggest step forward in their relationship imaginable (at this point, at least).

Fareeha Amari staggered out from a darkened room, hair a tangled mess and bags hanging under her eyes. She looked a little ashen around her face, as if she was just beginning to get over a very bad infection of the chest. The woman brought a hand up and rubbed it against the tattoo that was etched under her right eye; the watchful eye of Horus. Offering a yawn she then scratched at her toned stomach before walking a few more feet forward and collapsing against the desk where Satya Vaswani.

Satya hadn’t even heard her approach, as she had her earbuds linked up to the holo projected screen before her, playing footage that was paired with news read outs from across the planet. She jolted, and spun around a bit, reaching for something on her side but stopped as she saw who it was.

“Look at you. Unsightly.” the woman scoffed affectionately. “Have you even showered?”

“Getting to it.” Fareeha replied before leaning down to press a quick kiss against the other womans forehead. 

“And you show yourself to me in such a state. What would our subordinates think?” Satya asked.

“That we’re human.”

“Ugh. Do not ever refer to us as such things. We are higher than that.” she looked back to the screens, reaching a hand up to swipe against it to change the imagery. 

“Anything new?” but Fareeha found it always interesting how Satya would absorb herself in world news like this. None of it was really a help to any of them here, their news and information came from darkened alleyways, whispers through cracks in walls and information so encrypted even the most highly advanced hacking tool on the planet couldn’t crack in one hundred years. 

“More idiotic politicians whose opinion hardly matter. More omnic violence across the globe, the same news each and every morning.” 

“Same shit, different day?” Fareeha offered.

“How eloquent of you.” Satya offered a bemused chuckle, reaching to pick up her clean blue mug and took a sip of her morning tea. Black, sugarless, with a touch of lemon. “But yes. Just like that.”

She watched as Fareeha brought a hand to scratch at the back of her head, proceeding to make a further mess of her filthy, oily looking hair. Her mouth opened on a wide yawn, showing her sharp teeth for a second before she covered her mouth with her hand as any civilized person would. Satya sighs a bit, before reaching up and touched her finger to the other womans nose. “Go and shower. You need it.”

“Fine, fine.” Fareeha hopped off of the table, but not before stealing a fast sip of Satya’s tea, and made her way towards the door.

“By the way, since you were asking about it... the mission for the new boy, Fawkes? Went well. They all managed it well enough until running into technical difficulties with the carrier. I think we may have to look into getting Mr Lindholm better technicians to aid him in the carrier department.” Satya reported as she flicked the screens so they were those of security, showing said carrier that was being worked on by a very short man with a thick blond beard that he had tied into two plaits.

“Oh!” pausing to yawn again, Fareeha smiled. “Good to hear it. He had me worried; he’s such a skinny thing.”

“Thankfully his bodyguard knows what he’s doing. His hard work and training paid off, as all dedication does.” Satya took a sip of her tea once more.

“As you always say.” Fareeha pointed out before vanishing out of the room entirely.

Satya remained seated for a moment longer before she stood up, and made her way towards the door which Fareeha had emerged from. The lights were off, and the smell was not one that Satya looked forward to smelling ever but she had to face it. Reaching in she turned the lights on and the room was illuminated to reveal a horrible mess of a room.

There were torn belongings strawn upon the floor, a filthy mattress that had been torn and its insides ripped free and spread around. A distinct smell of excrement and blood mixed with the already rancid smell of meat in the air and Satya choked back the want to vomit. She removed herself from the room, turned off the light, and sealed the door shut. Approaching her desk she sat, brought up a screen and after entering a rather long code, there was a sudden blinding rush of light and power coming from the concealed room.

The next time someone would enter that room they would discover it completely clean but one couldn’t help but smell the distinct scent of something having been burnt. However the only two people to ever enter that room was herself and Fareeha. So doubtless anyone would be shocked, as they were the only two who knew the truth of the room and what it held.

~*~

Zarya sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, eyes narrowed, and her gaze fixed on the floor. Behind her, Mei lay in the bed. While the other woman didn’t ‘sleep’ so much as appear dead for a few hours at a time, it did give Zarya some peace to allow her mind to wander or to focus on something. 

Mei may not have given the full details in her official report of the mission, but that didn’t mean she kept things from Zarya. She had told her about the battle, about the intensity of it and how vicious the Duke had turned on the assailant. Then she’d explained what had happened with Jamison’s arm. How he was able to cause such catastrophic assaults on the demon, and how he somehow mended a dying man's face and allowed his soul to be ushered forth to the afterlife safely.

Just what was that power, at heart? Was it from Hell, Heaven, or some combination of the two? The Duke was so adamant in protecting him, keeping him safe... could he really be...

She groaned and ran a hand through her pink hair. If this is what it looked like, what was the Duke going to do? Follow Jamison around until he finally died and then what? Let his soul go? Consume him? Eat him? The idea seemed horrific but the lengths in which a fallen would take to achieve what they wanted...

While she hadn’t been around for it, it had happened well beyond her time but no Angel alive didn’t know the story of Lucifer. How the Angel who had been so close to God decided to go rogue, believing that the already evolving creatures that would be called humans wouldn’t appreciate the planet. That they would fight, kill, and destroy, and saw the Earth was fit for Angels instead.

Such an insult to God that Lucifer was banished, the first to fall, and all those loyal soon followed and abandoned their lives in Heaven for a suffering existence in the frozen wastelands of Hell. She’d never been, no Angel in their right mind would enter that terrible place, but she knew it was awful.

Which made her heart hurt to think the Duke had been sent there. Someone she’d been so close to once, reduced to something like that. 

But she knew she could save him. She had sworn she would, that horrific day so long ago. She would find him, and bring him home where he belonged. No matter the cost.

~*~

The chilling wind whistled through the cold, dark skies. Spiers of towers twirled and twisted up towards the starless sky where clouds made of blackness only aided in blotting out the sky. Twisted gnarled trees had thick clumps of snow clinging to their branches like lifelines, and while there was snow on every single tree there wasn’t a drop of snow upon the ground. 

The ground was barren, like a land which had suffered an insufferable drought and all the moisture had been sucked out of it by the very plants that lived there. The air was dry, wind sharp enough it felt like it could slice through your skin, and the lack of sunlight only made the coldness all the more prominent.

Yet despite all this, there were lives being lived here. One in particular was making its way through the cold, biting air on wings that didn’t even seem to connect to the majority of its body. If you could call it a body. It looked more like a floating, flaming head soaring through the skies. A fairly human face in appearance save for six eyes instead of two were entrapped in black and red flames which, now and then, seemed to resemble wings before melting back into fire and smoke.

Its expression was that of concern; all six eyes locked ahead as it flew through the skies approaching a towering spire of a blackened, burned remains of a castle that looked like something right out of the medieval times. Higher still the Demon flew and it was only now that one would see it wasn’t the only one flying towards this castle. The sky had several of them flying in unison towards the castle, each one different in appearance from the last.

Reaching a window the Demon flies through, as do the other, and descend upon a room that held a round conference looking table with multiple chairs set up around it. Standing by the table waiting already was a creature that looked like it would be more than happy sitting in on a Cthulhu fan club, holding a platter that was filled with small shot glasses with red liquid in each one.

And then the Demons materialized into their chairs. Each and every one was filled with some creature that would easily give a human nightmares if they looked upon them in their true forms. Black wings flapped, tendrils coiled, multi-eyes blinked out of synch with one another as the maid proceeded to hand them their drinks, her head bowed respectfully as she did.

“Right.” the burning head spoke up and all attention moved to him. His voice was deep and commanding, the scars on his face giving off faint plumes of smoke which only ended up being pulled into the flames and smoke coming from his burning form. “Thank you all of you for coming at such short notice. Appreciate it.”

“What’s all this about? I’m missing my kids ice skating recital.” 

“Unfortunately we all have things being interrupted today. But this is of great importance.” 

“Must be for Gabriel to call us.”

Gabriel pulled himself from his chair to float over towards a wall. One of his wings whipped out and pulled on something and an electronic screen descended from the ceiling as the open windows shut, plunging the room into darkness. “What you are about to learn, nobody else knows. Heaven has no knowledge. The Earthlings even less. But,” he held a remote in one of his wings somehow and pressed a button with a burning feather.

On the screen an image blinked into view.

The image was of a vast frozen lake within a cavern which seemed endless. Stalactites hung from the ceiling of the cavern. Gabriel turned back to the collected group of demons, his six eyes scanning each one’s face. “The lake is cracking.”

This simple phrase drew such a reaction from all collected. Some gasped, one screamed, a few of them seemed to be on the brink of tears at this news. Gabriel looked back to the image as it changed; showing deep, dangerous looking cracks appearing at the edge of the lake. And another, more cracks, these ones along the ice surface. “Our researchers can’t pinpoint when the lake will completely defrost, but know the process had begun. We know the severity of this information.”

Of course they did. When God and Lucifer had fought all those millennia ago, Lucifer had not only fell but punished harshly. Frozen solid in the endless lake, punished for such indiscretion against the Lord, Lucifer had been frozen solid ever since. Those high ranked in power and close to them during the uprising in Heaven became the Lords of Hell. Each one managing one of the nine inner circles of Hell to the best of their ability without the guidance of their leader.

But with Lucifer readying a return, what would that mean? Would the War between Heaven and Hell start anew? Would Earth be destroyed in the crossfire? What if their work all these years weren’t up for scratch, and they were punished? There were many feelings being dragged up with this news and all nine Lords gathered here were unsure of what to do about this.

“We have to be ready.” Gabriel said as he gazed at the image of the lake; Lucifer buried so deep in the lake even if you were to stand just above where they were buried, you still would be incapable of seeing their form. “Ready for war. Ready for judgement. Ready for absolutely anything.”

The meeting was short, and to the point. Information given, sworn to secrecy, the nine Lords of Hell left. Naturally each one would tell the Lords beneath them, their generals, but it was integral to keep this information away from the civilians. This might cause a panic and Hell was not the kind of place one would want to cause a panic.

One of the lower Lords to discover this information was Kokabiel. The best way to describe his appearance would be if an elks skeleton and a star cluster had been combined together. His antlers were out stretched, with stars twinkling around the broken open base of his skull. Wings were black as they always had been and were partly wrapped around him as he walked through his House, now fresh with the information that Lucifer would soon be returning.

His Duke had to know.

But where was he?

Roh’Dhog had vanished to Earth what felt like a second ago. He’d requested the trip, wanting to get back into the swing of harvesting. How had that gone? Kokabiel did not know; he had been busy with his own work and had lost track of his most favourite Duke. So he approached a burning fireplace, gazed into the flicking, curling flames and his eyes began to glow and glisten like a burning star in space. 

He couldn’t find him. 

Alarm began to rise in his chest. Where was his Duke? Had he been fallen? Did an Angel find him and kill him? No, no... if it had come to that he would have felt it. He’d have felt the loss. Something had happened and he didn’t know, and a Lord not knowing what had become of his own kind was not worthy of being a Lord. He growled, his starry eyes turning a darker shade of flames. The same flames that had brought about the creation of the Universe.

_He would find him._

~*~

Jamison screamed as he threw himself forward, jumped, and brought his right hand down onto the gnashing, snarling face of the monster. His hand landed open palmed against the face and what followed was a blast of light. The explosion splashed black matter ricocheted in all directions, splattering against the wall he’d been pushed up against, as well as Jamison’s front.

The worst over, the crew decided to focus on clean up. Straggling demons scratching away were caught and snuffed out just as swiftly, wiped out like skittering insects running across a newly cleaned floor.

The young man in black laughed, though it wasn’t an overly excited, nor happy laugh. More of a laugh of someone barely holding things together. While he was slowly growing familiar with the explosions his power brought him, he almost found them pretty in a way, it still wasn’t easy to face that he was killing Demons just like the one he fought alongside.

Not that the Duke was in his true form right now. He couldn’t, for they were working alongside an agent who wasn’t Mei, or Zarya. His name was Hanzo Shimada and he was quite possibly the most skilled man Jamison had ever seen with a quiver and arrows in this modern day. He was like something out of a Robin Hood movie only he was very real, and the arrowheads he worked with were made of materials that would burn demon’s flesh if they touched.

And they always touched.

They were just outside Karuizawa, Japan. A resort town with beautiful picturesque scenery which brought to mind an autumn day. The orange trees stretched skywards, painting the countryside like a Halloween masterpiece out of America yet they were far from that land.

“Is that the last of them?” Hanzo asked. His English was surprisingly good, and Jamison was glad for that as he couldn’t speak a lick of Japanese unlike the Duke who appeared to be talented in all languages the world over.

Perks of being an ageless Demon maybe. Got time to learn languages of men.

“Looks it.” the Duke said as he wiped his hands clean of black sludge.

“You are effective.” the Japanese man said as he looked over the towering, large man. “I did not realize your skill was so far reaching.”

“Luck.” he replied with a toothy grin, causing the bearded man to look away to Jamison. 

“Send thanks to Miss Vaswani and Miss Amari that I am in debt. Those monsters were plaguing this town for months without challenge. They needed this reminder that this world is protected.” Hanzo said as he began picking up the arrows he’d shot. While they were spent, the heads exploding on contact with demon flesh, he couldn’t afford to leave evidence strewn around. After all, Hanzo Shimada was a wanted criminal across a lot of Japan by not only police but Yakuza as well.

He wasn’t the type of man to hang around one place too long, or leave a mess behind that he couldn’t clean.

“Gotta ask mate,” Jamison said as he rubbed his sore right shoulder. “Why you go usin’ arrows and stuff? Lotta blokes out there usin’ specialised guns and stuff.”

“Simple is he, without distraction. To all appearances he is a fool” Hanzo said as he plucked one arrow free of where it had been wedged in a tree trunk. “His step leaves no trace. He has no power. He achieves nothing, has no reputation.” he slid the arrows back into his quiver as he continued. “Since he judges no one, no one judges him.” lifting his gaze he looks to Jamison, his bridge piercing gleaming in the moonlight overhead. “Such is the perfect man: His boat is empty.”

“That don’t answer my question at all.” replied Jamison with a frown.

“He likes being special.” the Duke spoke up as he approached. “Do shit no one else can, makes you special.”

Hanzo scoffed. “Something like that.” he turned and began to walk away. “Thank you again gentlemen. May we cross paths again.”

“Get a load’a this guy.” Jamison muttered under his breath towards the Duke, eyeing his companion. “Feel like he’s up himself a bit yeah?”

“He’s gone.”

“Wha?”

Turning to where the archer had been, sure enough, he was gone. Jamison blinked a few times before frowning, and gestured with his right arm (once again the sleeve burned off) “Well how do ya like that? How rude! Pulled a Batman on us!”

“Hmm.” the Duke stretched his shoulders backwards as he arched his back, the cracking sound feeling more like a tree trunk breaking than popping a spine the way the Duke did. 

Jamison flinched at the sound before looking down at his exposed arm, groaning. “Shit. Again?”

“Keep telling you, wear something sleeveless. Make things easier.” 

“You just wanna see my arms more.” Jamison replied in a, dare he believe, flirtatious tone as he began to make his way back towards the carrier.

“Can’t deny.”

He came to a stop for a moment, before slowly turning and looked to the Duke in silence for a moment. “...we don’t have to rush back, do we?” he asked, looking towards where the carrier was stationed. “I mean, always wanted to just... enjoy a break somewhere. And these guys been workin’ us hard now aren’t they?”

“Now they know we’re capable of course. And these jobs are popping up a lot...” the Duke couldn’t help but notice that. It made him worried, but he couldn’t show it. Something was brewing, something huge, but he couldn’t see what it was yet. Maybe he’ll grill Sombra for details once they get back to the base.

“I just want some breathing room.” Jamison said quietly. “...so you wanna?”

“Yes. I’ll give you some breathing room.” the Duke replied and closed the gap between himself and Jamison all but immediately and closed an arm around his lower back. Jamison was pressed right up against that stomach, his chest, and his face freely turned deep red as those black wings folded out of the Demon’s back and with one powerful movement of muscles the two shot up into the sky.

This wasn’t the first time they’d done this and yet it always stole Jamison’s breath away. How the world would all but plummet beneath him, falling away, and the sky became the ground fast enough. He laughed, a true excited laugh that travelled through his whole being as he was lifted higher, and higher still.

While work was work, fighting demons and saving the lives of people who would never see his face, it was this that made the job worthwhile.

Well, that and being so physically close to the Duke like this. Each and every night they slept in the same bed, sometimes the Duke in his true form but sometimes as a human and each time Jamison felt his heart race like it was at this very moment. The warmth coming off of the Demon kept the cold of the wind at bay, and he shut his eyes on a breathless, pleased noise escaping his lips.

“Been working too hard.” the Demon commented.

“Hmm.” Jamison mused quietly.

“Should I go higher?”

“Don’t think so,” he dared to look down towards the ground but turned his attention quickly to the Duke’s face. “High enough, mate.” Jamison smiled shakily, lifting his arms and easily looped them around the upper shoulders, and neck, of the Demon. “Any higher might get dizzy.”

The Duke agreed with a low grunt as he evened out his flight pattern and began to effortlessly glide through the air on outstretched wings, holding Jamison closer still against him. He breathed evenly, the chill night air surrounding them but not penetrating the body heat he gave off. He felt one of Jamison’s fingers curl itself against the back of his neck, and he tilted his head into the touch.

“...question time?” Jamison asked, quietly.

Question Time was an agreement they’d come to some weeks ago. Jamison, or the Duke, could ask questions of the other. As many as they wanted until the other said “No more.” and they’d respectfully stop. Well, sometimes there’d be some teasing and poking and laughing but that was the end of it. If they didn’t want Question Time they’d simply decline.

“Sure.” the Duke replied.

“...do you have a dick?”

He’d been musing about this question for ages. Longer than he’d like to imagine as the question first bubbled to the surface of his brain during the time in his life when he wasn’t so ‘at ease’ with himself. And asking a man, or Demon, about his genitals seemed like the Ultimate Sin in his mind. While he still felt embarrassed, it wasn’t so bad.

“I can.” he answered, and when he saw Jamison’s confused expression he laughed. “Okay, so... God created Angels, right? Right. Created to be all about loving God, praising God, spreading word of God and all that kinda stuff you do when you’re self centered and only think about yourself. You’d think they’d make it so Angels couldn’t fool around but they can. In their true forms though, no genitals. They have to make their own genitals in order to make love. Gotta be mutual though. So, since Angels are like that so are Demons. We can have children. We can reproduce. We just don’t very often since Demons live so long and Hell is already pretty populated.”

“Is it?” Jamison blinked. “Full of souls or...”

“No souls in Hell. No punishment. When you die you’re given a respite in a waiting space for a while until your soul is ready to be reborn again.” the Demon explained. “Your last life is cleansed from your souls memory so you’re born fresh and new again, no matter what body you end up in.”

The young man blinked a few times, before looking up to the Demon’s face. “...do you have children?”

At this, the Duke laughed out loud. That, more or less, was an answer. “I’m too gay for that.” the Duke replied after his laughter calmed itself into a hearty chuckle.

So not only was the story about souls being punished in Hell very much incorrect, but Demons and Angels both could reproduce if they so wanted to but it seemed as though many chose not to as there were so many of them already. He felt a bit silly asking that children question though.

“Is that all?” the Duke asked.

“Uh? Oh, yeah. Yeah..”

The two flew in silence, not going in any real direction, just flying in lazy circles through the night air as the landscape below stretched on for what felt like forever. Jamison opened his eyes after a moment of keeping them shut to take in the sight of it all. A year ago he would never have dreamed (do to his inability to dream) that he would be in this situation. Who plans on being taken into an organisation that fought monsters and demons? With some kind of power that blew evil away like some extremely powerful bug spray?

Nobody thinks that as a possibility for their life.

He most certainly never anticipated he would be growing to love himself. Being raised and told being a homosexual was a great big Sin in the eyes of God was hard to get past, but with the Duke’s guidance and even talking to Zarya and Mei both about it he had realized he really... wasn’t as bad as he thought he was. Not even ‘different’ because there were gay people throughout history and the world. He was still human. He was still someone who mattered in this world, no matter how big or small.

Speaking of big, those large muscles holding him like some newly wed bride was not helping those thoughts that clouded his brain with imagery of the man here with him doing unspeakable things. But were they truly unspeakable? This was a Demon, a servant of Hell who still wouldn’t tell him his true purpose for being close to him like this. If it was a lure, a trick to get him to sin, well it was working.

His body moved of its own accord, like a rubber band that had been stretched far too thin for its own good. It snapped, as did his judgement, and his movement as he suddenly grabbed at the round, scruffy jaw of the Duke from Hell and kissed him hotly on the lips. There, suspended in the air on the wings of a Demon, Jamison Fawkes experienced the first kiss of his life at the tender age of twenty five years old.

Normally in any situation like this the person being kissed without provocation would jolt back, react negatively. The Duke however, at being kissed without warning, kissed back. His thick lips all but crushed Jamison’s in return, sending an electric jolt coursing through the young man’s body which triggered a hot moan that was muffled by the kiss. Both hands were now grasping at him, one palm digging into his upper back so he could feel every flex of those powerful muscles as his wings flapped in order to keep them steady.

Suddenly they dived. It broke the kiss and Jamison gasped at the sudden drop, the two plummeting towards the ground as the Duke watched as the ground came faster and faster towards them but before the point of impact his wings opened up, like putting on the breaks. He landed safely on the ground, but he didn’t let Jamison touch the ground just yet. Still those large hands held him close, only now they were groping, feeling him in ways those hands hadn’t touched him before.

“I can smell your want.” the Duke finally uttered, his voice dropping a good octave deeper than it normally would. He slowly lowered Jamison to the ground, but held him close still, one hand urging down to grope at his rear.

“Must stink,” Jamison replied shakily as he touched his hands against the rough jaws of the Demon, feeling the bristles beneath his fingertip of his left hand, as his right was still pretty numb to feeling. “Cuz I want you pretty bad..”

“Admitting it at last are we? I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks... so are you gonna kiss me or--”

He did. He kissed him like nobody else had ever done before because, again, no one had kissed Jamison Fawkes before tonight. Hands grasped and held him close and he could feel the warmth of the Demons breath against his face as he kissed him. Their noses pressed and bumped against one another’s as the kiss was dragged out longer, and longer, going so far that Jamison was almost gasping for breath when they finally broke for air.

“Is it what you’d hope for, so far?” the Duke asked as he ran a thumb down Jamison’s jaw to grip his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, yeah it... kiss me again, don’t stop yet...”

Seemed as though the Duke did not need much encouragement to kiss him, because his request was barely spoken before he was being kissed again. The ferocity behind it was like being burned, and he welcomed the feeling as he felt himself being pressed up against the nearest tree which groaned beneath the weight of the two men. His fingers dug up into the man’s hair, desperate for closeness he’d been wanting far longer than he’d like to admit.

Desperation. That’s what this was. Both just as desperate for the others touch, like men dying of dehydration being given water enough to drown themselves in. And if this was what drowning felt like, Jamison would welcome drowning.

“What do you want?” the Demon asked as the feverish kissing came to a stop, lips brushing against Jamison’s jaw at the question. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never...” the young man floundered, touching at the material of the jacket.

“Not asking if you’ve ever. What do you want?”

“I want you inside me.” he said honestly, looking up at him. “I... I need you.”

He watched as the clothing on the Duke’s body seemed to melt into his body, leaving his flesh on display. White eyes illuminated the darkness of the woods, and those burning red eyes on his wings seemed to be all focused on him and him alone. That wasn’t something he’d ever seen before; any time those wings were out and active they would be staring in all other directions, blinking out of sync. Now, though, they were all trained on him and blinking as one even in time with the two eyes set in the Duke’s head.

He didn’t even question where this was happening as the Duke helped him out of his clothing. Yes, they were outside in the wilderness and the carrier was who knows how far away, but that didn’t matter. None of it did. When those large, warm hands touched his bare skin he moaned, feeling the excitement swelling between his legs. He grasped at the Duke’s body, trying to draw him closer still and only calmed at his grasping when he was kissed once more.

The Duke watched the young man’s face as he touched him, pushing one hand down the entire length of his body before pressing it down between his legs. He trembled at the touch, clearly unfamiliar with such touch but that send a greater thrill through his being at this knowledge. He had waited for this, watched and waited and now it was happening and it was taking a great deal of self control to keep himself from ravishing the poor human right here and now. That would be too much, far too fast and it may overwhelm him. 

Opening his mouth he allowed his tongue to roll out, far longer than he’d allow it before and the saliva dribbled out of his mouth. Jamison watched, his eyes widening slowly. “Okay, so... no forked tongue just really long... okay.”

“Haven’t told you everything.” the Duke replied smugly, before gesturing. “Turn around.”

He was glad the man did as he was instructed to. Preparing him would have been harder to do if he hadn’t. Jamison jolted forward as he felt the Duke’s hands grab his hips, thumbs pull his cheeks apart and when he felt that tongue push itself into his body he cried out at the sensation. He pressed his forehead against the bark of the tree he’d been propped up against, nails digging against it as he felt the large man force his tongue deeper still, far deeper than a human’s tongue most likely would ever reach. 

“O-oh God...” Jamison knew too well he was being blasphemous but he didn’t care now. Especially not when a large hand closed itself over his swollen sex, squeezing and pulling on it with rough, hot hands. He cried out again, feeling the Duke’s teeth teasingly grinding against his soft body as his tongue pressed deeper still, but when the tongue was suddenly withdrawn to be replaced with a very thick finger Jamison almost spilled his climax at that very second.

Seemed the Duke was aware of this as his movements slowed, the finger pushing its way in began to slowly take its time rather than push it forward in one solid thrust. Kneeling on his feet, one hand grasping Jamison’s hips to keep him still, the Duke watched the muscles on Jamison’s back flex as he trembled in reaction to what his finger was doing. “Doing good.” he reassured Jamison, voice still deliciously low. 

“A-are you gonna use a... a human... cock... to fuck me..?” 

The question surprised him. Roh’Dhog blinked a few times as he paused his fingers motion. “Do you want me to?”

He didn’t get an answer but he could smell the conflict within the young man. A slow smile spread across his face as he began to pick up his fingers actions again, turning his hand enough so that his thumb could stroke and massage his balls. “Or do you want me to shift it into something else...? Maybe something to match my heads is what you’re hoping for. A nice thick, long horse dick.. Or a spiral one of a boar? Maybe you’re into a swelling wolf cock, locking me in your ass until I feel it best to let you go after filling you?”

Smelling the arousal in the other the Demon was fully aware he was saying things to excite him yet there was no real answer as to what he wanted. He gave a chuckle and pressed his lips to the small of Jamison’s back, kissing a trail up his spine as he slowly got up from his knees. “Think for your first time it’s good for me to use something you can handle...” he whispered. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’d never,” Jamison trembled as his body squeezed itself around the finger, turning his head to look over his shoulder at him, eyes half lidded yet filled with lust and want.

“Not on purpose.” the Demon replied as he stood to his full height and pulled his finger back. “Ready?”

His answer was Jamison bending forward more, both hands digging into the tree, and all but shook his ass at him. To think, this guy had been studying to become ordained as a priest. Seeing him now, in this light, well. What a shift in life choices. Not that he was complaining. Especially when he grabbed that teasing, shaking ass with his hands and guided the tip of his already dribbling erection to the prepared entrance. With a low guttural grunt he pushed forward and the swollen head pushed itself in.

Jamison cried out at the sensation. The penetration was stretching him more than the thick finger had, and that had him more than alarmed. He’d seen the Duke’s fingers, how thick they were. The fact they felt small in comparison to whatever it was being pushed into him now, just how big was he? Why hadn’t he looked? Too wrapped up in the new, wondrous sensations he’d been experiencing. He choked, squeezing his eyes shut and there was a distinct smell of burning wood and when he opened his eyes he saw his right hand had burned some of the tree he’d been gripping at. 

Pulling his hand back he grabbed at another part of the tree and as he did, the Duke thrust forward with one hard push and Jamison could all but hear a literal popping sound as he was filled. His toes curled, his flesh ones at least, and his knees buckled at the sensation. Grabbing at the tree he pressed his cheek against the bark, forehead slick with perspiration already. “Ooohhh, ohh... d-don’t stop please,”

“No plans on it.”

He felt the length throb within him and his body reacted by squeezing tight, and he ground his hips backwards, pushing himself along the length as he felt the Duke thrust again. Jamison felt the burning sensation creeping through his whole body, starting both between his legs but also from his arm with a feeling he hadn’t felt before. The power in his arm wasn’t like this. But his mind wasn’t near clear enough to focus and think about this matter, not with the Duke filling his body like this.

“M-more please, fuck, more...”

Jamison was well aware he was begging for this, and from the way the Duke’s body moved faster, and deeper, it was what he was after. His excitement dribbled too, nowhere near as much as it felt like the Duke’s but it was there, and as he was about to move his hand to reach down and tend to himself the Demon once more seemed aware of what he wanted. His hand moved, down beneath and between his legs and began to tend to his dick without any effort. He pressed, rubbed, squeezed in all the right places Jamison swore he saw stars behind his eyes when he shut his eyes tight.

“I could change it right now.” the Duke spoke up suddenly, “While deep within you... could stretch you even more. Fill you with my thick, hot seed like I know you want... but that’s too much... next time, I think... or after many more like this.”

“Stop t... talking like that,” Jamison stammered, trying to sound like a threat but it fell flat on its face.

Unlike his own face which pressed itself against the tree, squeezing his eyes shut as he was continually pounded into again, and again. He cried out hotly, the burning feeling now in his chest, feeling as if it was filling his whole being. As he bent forward more he felt the warmth and weight of the Demon’s stomach more against his lower back, and the fur of his legs as they brushed against his own skinny legs. A combination of wild textures during such a tryst had sparks going off in his mind, and burning the tree bark even more with his hand.

It got so much, his overwhelmed emotions had him grasping at his own face with his left hand, breathing jagged, rough breaths into his palm. He couldn’t hold this back at all, he’d been fighting this release since the Duke had first kissed him in the sky. Trembling, whimpering, no longer holding himself back Jamison Fawkes pushed himself against the length throbbing within him, and feebly tried to push forward into the squeezing warm hand at the same moment. The pressure, the pleasure, the heat, it was all set to burst forth and soon.

“I can’t... hold this...” he managed to utter breathlessly.

“Then don’t.”

The touching, the sounds of the Duke’s breath and his voice, his weight and body so close and feeling as if he could grow closer still Jamison could no longer fight this. Not that he wanted to fight it, of course not, he’d wanted this to last far longer than he probably could manage during his first tryst of this sort. Breath caught in his throat once more, and Jamison allowed the pleasure to consume him.

And with that, Jamison Fawkes and the Duke Roh'DHog both ceased to exist.

_To be continued_


	12. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something BIG has just appeared and it's very excited to be here. It's wild and untamed but so very joyous at the same time. What's the plan now?

The following morning, all across Japan were the reports on an earthquake which had erupted overnight just outside of Karuizawa. The rare eye witnesses claimed that there had been an almighty eruption from the woods at first, like a missile had been fired and hit paydirt within the trees. Of course, there were no reports of any missile launches going on nor were there any omnium factories in the vicinity to be held accountable for the explosion.

And it wasn't like an explosion would cause an earthquake.

The tree which had been just been scarred with burned in hand prints had been obliterated, the splinters burned to ash and the ash whisked away in the prevailing winds and the force which knocked outwards from the point of impact. It, and many trees that had been happily growing on this hillside for many decades came to a crispy, destructive end so exhaustive that not even seeds were left to sow their lineage.

Then came the mushroom-shaped cloud of debris, and smoke combined with the condensed water vapor that naturally resulted from such a large explosion. The rushing heat of the blast bent what trees that weren't burned into history to be bent over, as if bowing to some mighty God that had just been born. The cloud grew larger and larger, as a ring erupted from the base of the mushroom cloud and it too seemed to roar and grow faster, and faster before the smoke paused, frozen in mid air.

Suddenly it closed in on itself. All of the smoke, debris, came sucking back in on itself with such a force those bent trees were bent in the opposite direction. And only now was there a sound to accompany the explosion but instead of the usual screeching blast that accompanied such a rush of force and energy, there was loud, hysterical laughter coming from four mouths that filled the suddenly still, silent night.

The first thing to fold out of the laughter was two sets of wings, one set riddled with burning red eyes and a smaller set of blackened wings accompanied it. These were without blinking eyes, but were naked and fresh as a newly born Angels wings could be. The beings spine was bent forward, curved inwards like how a baby would be in its mother’s womb but suddenly it straightened out, a back rippling with strength and power unfolded itself and four massive heads lifted themselves to the night air, each one’s mouth open with rapturous glee.

For that’s what He felt. Nothing but absolute joy and the adrenaline that came with such happiness. The white wolf head, the black horse, the brown boar, now joined by a fourth head. A head which had been missing from this body for over one thousand years and it was the one laughing the loudest, the most hysterical unhinged laugh that one would assume that could only come from a hyena for that’s what it was. 

His massive arms were thrown back as his spine bent backwards, the four black wings opening up with a rush of wind that sent trees buckling once more. The spine was straight, skin dark and muscular, stretched down until it met the darkness of the fur of his lower legs. Not only that but his tail was thrashing its head, a black snake that stretched as long as His body was. 

“Oooohhhh **YES!** ” He screamed with all four voices at once, slamming his massive hands down into the ground as the wings opened further still and he shot up into the skies with a adrenaline fueled rush. “YES, YES, YES!” He cried out again, and again as the wind of the night rushed past his faces as he flew. How quickly he passed over the carrier far below, and the faster still he went soon all of Japan was behind him and he thrust downwards towards the ocean.

He hit the water with full force, dipping in down past a very startled blue whale which He could have easily grabbed into one of his open palms. The water churned from the heat coming off of the large creature that was neither Angel, nor Demon, before he came shooting out of the ocean with another twist of His body and once more He was in the night air once again. 

Spinning he did a roll mid air, pushing himself higher, faster, eyes locked on the full moon and tears prickled the corner of all four eyes at the sight of it. When had He last seen the moon like this? So long ago, back when he had fallen on that horrible night. But He refused to think of that moment, when those powerful glowing hands had torn him in half before discarding Him like some sort of broken, useless toy. Rage had filled his halves at that time, rage but also utter heartache.

And across the planet, down South of Louisiana, Zarya froze mid stride and turned her neck so sharply you could probably hear the bones snap. She was suddenly overcome with such a rush of familiarization that it could only mean one thing. He was back, He was whole just like the Duke had said He would be and He had. 

“Zarya?” Mei saw the change in her partners stride, reaching up to touch her wrist. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I do not know if you could call it Wrong.” Zarya replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I do not know if I can call it Right...”

“Zarya??” she was worried more, now.

“I cannot find him.” the pink haired Angel said, frowning, as she turned and focused on a part of the sky. “He is making it hard to locate him--Quick, Mei,” she spun to look down at her partner. “Where was the Duke and Jamison stationed?”

“Why would I know? I’m not their maid.” Mei frowned, grabbing Zarya’s wrist even tighter. “Zarya, tell me what’s going on. Right now.” she used that angry girlfriend tone, the one that didn’t offer up any places for argument.

“He was right.” Zarya admitted, “He had found him and I thought he was just fooling himself. The Duke, he was an Angel and he fell but he fell in pieces. God--they... He was ripped in half. A soul torn in two is a horrifying thing to watch, to feel... Jamison is his other half. His missing half. And now they’ve come together again and what they were is back and I don’t know what He’s going to do.”

This was a lot of information to suddenly take in. That Jamison was part fallen Angel, and the Duke really had been one but had been torn in half. She blinked a few times, before looking to the sky. “What do you mean, you cannot find them...?”

“I can normally sense where they are through following the aura of Jamison’s soul but it’s gone. And the Duke... he’s done something. Made it impossible to for me to track him. Old prayers, old magic... so I can’t tell where they are. But if I just knew the area where... I could. I could find Him. See Him again.” Zarya sounded almost desperate now, pacing in place, while Mei pulled up her hologram device from her wrist and began to type and tap quickly.

“Hold on, let me... see if I can find...”

Information splashed on the screen. There was activity in Karuizawa, but the two agents located in the area were unavailable. Literally incapable of being contacted. Hanzo Shimada was in the area and he was going in but he needed back up. “Karuizawa, Japan.” Mei said, looking at her detailed information, and before she even lifted her head she felt the rush of Zarya vanishing. Like how she’d transported the three of them that night they had found the Duke and Jamison, only now she was off by herself.

The sudden, pink eruption had Him falling backwards into clouds and he watched as the form grew larger, and larger on the horizon. Four sets of eyes widened at realization, recognition, and He spread his wings as far as he could. Opening all four mouths He spoke a name, all four speaking different syllables and the type of sounds humans would be incapable of voicing, much less hearing. Name spoken, He flew directly towards the gyrating, spiraling rings that were littered with those glowing eyes.

Throne Angels were a very special breed of Angels which had multiple uses. Zarya was made to contemplate the power and justice of God, as well as to be carriers of God's throne back when there was a literal throne. But most important part of her role, was what she housed in those multitude of eyes that covered her wheels and rings. Within each eye was a soul; a Cherubim soul. Which is what He was. Not tiny, rosy cheeked naked babies like they were depicted in a lot of modern day art by humanity, but giant, roaring multi-headed, multi-winged creatures who sung the praises of God and had the best singing voices in all of creation.

Seeing Zarya here, rotating in all her glory and almost to her right size, it was like Home coming to you instead of the other way around. And He flew at her, but unlike the last time Zarya had revealed herself in her true form to the Duke when they met, it wasn’t in malice or hated. He was hysterical, he was excited, as he flew around her in rapid, sharp movements despite his hulking, huge form.

“You’re here!” He said excitedly, grasping at one of the outer rings, his all four wings flapping at once. “You’re actually HERE!” He laughed again, before landing by the blackened eye on her outer wheel, clicking a few tongues at it. “Still empty? Never let anyone out since I left? Honored I am!”

“This is not safe.” Zarya’s booming voice echoed across the sky, sounding ethereal, echoing when there was nowhere for her voice to bounce off of. “You have not been whole in a millennia, this is dangerous for the two of you.”

“PLEASE!” He laughed again, all four heads focused on the inner glowing shape within the Angel, flapping his wings as he fell from his grip of her, to circle her instead. “I am strong I’ve always been strong, that’s why God tore me in half. Thought she’d seen the last of me!” hysterical laughing erupted from His powerful chest, before he spluttered, and coughed. He gasped as breathing suddenly became hard, almost impossible as if there were two hands squeezing his lungs. “What--no, NO.” 

Zarya spun herself faster, dipping down beneath him, as if to prop him up but he flew away from her too proud and sure of himself even while he was suffocating. The shock was settling in; his alignments were all wrong suddenly. He was two beings being forced apart, the Demon and the grace of the remnants of the Angel were suddenly fighting and his skull felt like it was splitting in half. “No no no no NO!” yet He laughed in his pain, in his panic, in his suffocation.

The explosion was as brilliant as it had been on land only now it was high up in the air, higher than what planes were capable of flying. The blast threw Zarya back, spinning and whirring in on herself to remain balanced but then she realized the horror of what had just happened. He had been blasted apart as violently as he’d come together, but now he was two once more... two that were falling and fast.

Duke Roh’Dhog was plummeting like a rock, his heads once more three, all with their eyes shut. His large wings offered no resistance to the violent wind rushing up to meet him, ruffling his hair, and his fur along his legs. His weight, his full size, was almost as big as Zarya’s true form was but she had to shoot down towards him to try and catch him out of the sky but to do that she quickly transformed into her far more humanoid appearance, but in her panic she hadn’t been that clean cut. Her head was a spinning, rotating wheel of glowing eyes, every single one looking in opposite directions as she grabbed at the falling Demon.

Where was the human? Where was Jamison?

She saw him and she realized once more how bad this was. A Demon may well live through falling so far, hitting the water wouldn’t end their life but a human? Jamison would die the second he hit the ocean that was rapidly growing faster and faster towards him. Zarya gripped the unconscious Duke, his weight throwing off her momentum but she forced herself to fly as fast as she could towards the human. He couldn’t be lost now; not now! The Duke had lost his half once, to lose him again after being joined after so long, it would destroy him. She couldn’t save him then.

But she could save him now, she could save them both. She was an Angel, she was born to protect those around her especially her Cherubims and even if the Duke, and Jamison both, had been removed from her presence they were still a part of her. They’d never not be. She loved Him beyond what humans could evaluate as love, affection, parental feelings, all burned to nothing in comparison to what an Angel felt for another. 

Zarya reached, her fingers stretching, knowing if she grabbed him wrong the force might snap his neck and kill him instantly. She had to get under him, catch him as he’s falling as softly as she could without damaging him at the sudden stop. Her wings faltered, she swung the Duke back before throwing him forward. His weight threw him further, faster downwards, she traveled with him, gripping his back still and finally she was able to snatch the falling human safely out of the sky well before he would have hit the water.

And at that she, and the two beings, vanished from sight.

~*~

Jamison screamed when he awoke, bolting upright in the bed, eyes wide and vision blurry. His hands grabbed at himself, feeling his face, his chest, seeing that everything was in place. He was alive. He was here. Where was here? Where was the Duke? What the Hell happened? 

It had been wonderful. He’d never felt so alive before back in that forest, feeling fulfilled and adored and loved, happy, wanted...! But then it had all ended and he wasn’t sure what had happened. It was like being in a living dream. He wasn’t himself, but he was. He’d also been the Duke. But not. He’d felt memories rushing back. He’d wanted to cry, but he wasn’t sure now why he had wanted to. Why, now, tears ran down his face as it felt as though he had just lost something very important but he didn’t know what.

Breathing was hard, and he grasped at his chest, leaning forward as the world spun, the circle was spinning too fast and he couldn’t focus, couldn’t--

“Jamison, Jamison!”

The Duke’s voice pulled him out of the spinning room and he felt familiar warm hands on his arms and he pulled his head back, looking into the wide, white eyes of the Demon and the two stared at one another for a moment before Jamison threw himself onto him, arms around his neck, hiding his face against his neck. Tears still flowed and he was sure the Duke was crying too as he could feel him shuddering against him, and he soon felt wetness against his shoulder that wasn’t his own tears.

“W-what happened,” Jamison asked quietly, shakily. “I don’t understand--I... p-people say your first time’s meant to be... a-amazing but I don’t think that’s normal...!” he was trying to joke, trying to make light of how horrified he felt, how lost, but it was a weak attempt.

A large hand gripped the back of his head, tangling his blond hair tightly, and he had a feeling that the Duke feared if he let him go he would lose him somehow. Lifting his head, he gazed up at the man’s face, seeing those white eyes staring at nothing as tears still rolled down his cheeks.

“Roh’Dhog, please...” he whispered quietly. “You can’t keep this from me mate, it ain’t right. Ain’t fair to me... not to you either...” 

The Duke shuddered and shut his eyes tightly trying to keep his breathing calm. He knew that this would come to ahead eventually, he couldn’t avoid this. Jamison needed, deserved, answers to questions he’d been asking ever since the day they met and after what happened he couldn’t skirt around it anymore. It would be cruel to, and even if he was a Duke of Hell, he was not a cruel creature to those who mattered to him and nobody mattered more to him than the man trembling in his arms right now.

“...alright, alright.” he sounded defeated, ashamed. The demon moved and sat himself on the bed, pulling Jamison into his arms protectively, his large wings folding out and wrapping around the two of them offering even further protection. “I’ll tell you.

It all began over one thousand years ago.”

_To be continued_


	13. Torn Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback 12 Chapters in the making. 
> 
> We finally learn just what happened one thousand years ago, why God punished an Angel in such a way that torn them in two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy One Year Anniversary Burning Souls! One year ago I began this story despite my initial hesitance to post it, and I'm still a little anxious about it still. But I want to take a moment to thank every single one of you who've stuck with it this long! Especially Matt, someone who's flattered me with his love and adoration for this story. This chapter is for you!

Around one thousand years in the past, in a land very different to our own...

The sky was bright, all but shining despite the fact that there was no source of light to be seen in the clear blue sky. For there was no sun to be seen. There was no need for a sun in this realm, the one of wonder, creation, and protection. For this was the realm of the angels, of those born of the love of God and need who worshiped on high and guarded the souls of those on Earth.

It was all fairly fancy.

But despite how pristine and alluring the place was, it was far from perfect. Unbeknownst to the humans below who had once been so in tune with the word of God and angels, more had fallen than they would like to admit. Cracks were forming in the legions and those who'd sworn alliance with the Lord our God had drifted, committed treason, and exiled to the Fallen Realm.

God was still suffering the loss of dear Gabriel, the archangel who had been the messenger of God for so long. The whisperings of Lucifer were still getting through to angels, turning their minds, opening their eyes to truths and lies and sooner or later they were gone. Those who had fallen were not allowed to be spoken of; one had to act as if they'd never existed at all. Which, for some, was harsher than facing the truth of their banishment.

Thus, the loss of Gabriel, was harder still and God was still clearly reeling from it.

Kokabiel scoffed as he hovered, the constellation of stars that made up his body swirled in a lazy, constant cycle. How a skeletal face could look bemused was beyond anyone, and yet he pulled it off beautifully. "Imagine the headlines if humans were still in touch with us like the old days. Archangel Gabriel falls, God uncontactable for comment, Angels up in arms!" he laughed, which more or less resulted in his bones rattling wildly with each chuckle.

Lounging alongside him was a four headed cherub. Two sets of black wings outstretched, lazily settled as the large, lazy creature hung there. Its hyenas head was lifted, eyes wide and goggling at the rattling skeleton star man, before it joined in on a wheezy laugh. "It'd be chaos that's what it'd be!"

"Chaos certainly would bring some more entertainment around here." Kokabiel sneered. 

R'hodrhatt snorted through all four noses at once before sitting upright, stretching all four of his wings outwards. "Too right. It's so quiet, 'n while you know I'm the biggest fan of things bein' quiet sometimes it can be rightfully quiet too much!"

His long time friend chuckled again, before too sitting upright. "These humans, it is as Lucifer claimed. They do not deserve that planet they have. Why rob us, Gods heralded army, here while they have a whole planet to traverse and perverse? The stars, my friend, they speak of unspeakable evil in their future."

"I thought only God could tell the future." 

“You’ve still got a lot to learn.” Kokabiel had a long trail of constellations reach out and stroked itself along the wolf’s cheek. The wolf instantly snapped at it, white eyes glowing and ears tilted forward with keen interest as the trail was reabsorbed back into the mass that made of Kokabiel’s body. “Now. Shall we have some fun?”

Now travelling to Earth was one of the easiest things for an Angel to do. There were no barriers, nor gates or doors, that divided the two realms whatsoever. You didn't even have to go to a certain point to achieve it, instead you could immediately appear wherever on the wide, round Earth you wanted to be and there you were. All it took was a small incantation, a declaration of your love for God and there you have it.

Which is exactly what the two angels in question did. One moment they were in Heaven, and the next they were in a field in England. The Winter weather was on its way, you could feel it in the chill being carried on the air but it didn't bother the two who stood there. The fields were still lush with grass and leaves clung to the trees but one could feel the bitter cold that travelled on the air. On the horizon, distant clouds threatened to open and spill forth a flurry of snow if they were tempted to do so. There was no longer birdsong, too, and the animals of the fields had burrowed deep to sleep or scampered to better, safer places to be.

One was what most people would call a giant. Over seven feet tall, he was quite possibly even pushing eight feet in height. A little fat around the middle, and his skin an olive shade that made the greying blonde of his hair stand out even more. His shoulders were narrow and broad, which matched his thick neck quite nicely. He had a strong, solid square chin that travelled up to his jawline which was smooth of sideburns despite them being the ‘In’ thing people wore now a days. He had a few strains of a beard appearing on his strong chin but that was it. Dressed in a black overcoat he stood there, left hand grasping a wolf headed cane as he surveyed the field. His shadow stretched outwards behind him, and maybe for a glimmer of a second it looked like he had four wings shadowed sprouting from his back before flickering back out of existence entirely.

Standing besides him was a German Pinscher. Sleek and black, with eyes that seemed to twinkle as if it were the night sky. Lowering its head, it sniffed against the grass before lifting its head and barked sharply yet despite the vastness of the field all around them, the bark did not echo once.

"I like it." the tall, fat man said as he took a step on human legs for the first time. Thankfully he didn't stumble, or trip over them. That would have looked embarrassing even if there was nobody around this time of night to see it. "So we start here?" he asked with a smile, revealing his teeth were sharp as the dogs teeth besides him if not sharper. Considering this was his first time taking on a human shape, you had to admit he could make a few mistakes.

The dog wagged its long whip like tail.

And so the Winter that would drag for several months began. The people of England couldn't understand why it was happening. Church and King saw it as God's Will; a test, perhaps. A testament for their love for Him. Or punishment. Perhaps there weren't enough people going to Church, not enough money being shared. Maybe it was the beginning of the end of the world and this is how it went; a frozen wasteland that would gradually take over the entire planet. No matter how far, or close, they searched there wasn't a reason why the winter cold was lasting as long as it did. How it seemed as though there was no end in sight.

"I don't know how you did it. How can nobody home see this?" the man asked as he stood against a tree which, normally, would be full of leaves and birdsong this time of year. Instead it was gnarled and near death. Its bark was dark, blackened by the lack of water. Honestly how it didn’t splinter under his apparent weight would be a mystery to most.

Besides him a dog sat, eyes over seeing the sheer reach of their combined powers. It lifted its upper lips, and a voice spoke though its mouth did not move. "Ancient powers God has forgotten. It can mask anything, or anyone."

The man whistled lowly.

That was when the sky opened up. It looked as though someone had plunged a knife into the sky, and cut it open. There were no torn sides, no ripped sky patches drifting in the wind for it was clean, cut, and precise. Besides him, Kokabiel cowered in his canine form, tail stuck permanently between his legs and ears lowered as he cowered. But he knew there was no point in running; what was coming, who was coming, there was no running from. He’d pushed it, they both had, and now their punishment was upon them and both could feel the steadily growing warmth in the air suddenly turn rigid cold.

The Chariots came first. Their large, twisting, spinning wheels forever spinning as the eyes on their outer wheels blinked and spun. There was normally a procession, a blast of music that was accompanied by the beautiful voices of the Cherubs to announce the arrival of The Almighty but this was without such a procession. No music, no singing, just the sounds of spinning wheels and an ever growing presence of dread.

And suddenly there was God. Both R'hodrhatt and Kokabiel, now taken into their true forms, instinctively and immediately were on their knees and their heads low to the ground. 

How strange this would look to an outsider if they were capable of seeing this take place. They would see two beastly creatures that looked like they were torn right from the stuff of nightmares formed by sick, twisted mad men, bowing before an old woman draped in blue robes. Her silvery hair billowed softly in a breeze that didn’t exist, and her one good eye was locked upon the two monsters. Why one eye? For the other was gone. Having been taken long ago in a battle they would never want to recount for as long as their life lasted.

“I’m very disappointed in you.” Her voice was like that of a mother. She was composed, showed no true anger on her aged, tattooed face, and yet you could hear a soft, boiling rage building behind it.

Neither could speak.

God walked towards the two of them, adjusting her shawl in her delicate hands. “I don’t know what you hoped to achieve with this. Lives have been ruined, here. Good people who did not deserve this cruelty are dead because... what. You were looking for a thrill?”

She waited but still neither of her children spoke. Both were just as terrified as the other, but she could feel anger too. A deep rooted hatred burning within both of them. God shook her head. “I don’t know why this happens. If you had come to me, spoken to me, told me your feelings we could work this out but now you’ve pushed this too far. There is damage to be mended to these poor people. But you will not aid us.”

“...please, forgive us.” Kokabiel finally spoke, lifting his skeletal head as last to look to God. “It--we meant no harm--”

“No harm.” God echoed the sentiment and the skeletal, celestial beast backed away. “That is a lie. You meant harm, you did harm. There is no undoing that.” the anger was finally starting to raise in their voice as they walked forward, and slowly began to walk around the two hulking monsters who looked like they could easily snap her like a twig if they wanted to. “You have done wrong by them, and by so wrong by me. And I can sense them in you. You have been tainted and for this, and the blood on your hands, you have to be punished.”

“No, please!” Kokabiel shouted now, rushing forward, grabbing at the flowing blue robes of the Almighty. “We love you, please don’t do this to us!”

“Justice has to be delivered.”

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and it struck Kokabiel and R'hodrhatt both at the same time, the bursting sparks of power arcing through their bodies as they were thrown as if they were made of paper. It felt like burning from the inside out. Kokabiel landed in the snow, pushing it up as he skidded until he found enough strength to stop his momentum by digging his hands and feet into the ground.

He got up and snarled, the gaseous space bleeding out from the spaces between his skeletal body and just as he was about to leap a hand from seemingly nowhere slammed into him, and pinned him into the ground. Realization hit the angels face and if he were able to show true emotions he would show little but pure panic, and horror as he felt his limbs start to burn beneath the pressure of the hand. God walked towards him slowly as R’hodrhatt was still stunned and collapsed against the ground, and as she raised one frail looking hand the one pinning him grabbed him around the throat.

“What happened to you, Kokabiel?” she asked, voice soft, sympathetic but also so very disappointed. 

“You sit on your throne doing nothing,” spat the skeletal beast. “You can’t see what will happen, what they’ll do to your world you made for them and you’ll still do NOTHING.”

Her expression shifted to one of unease, pain. At that the hand grasping his body clenched tighter, and his body began to harden. Not only that, but turning to stone. Kokabiel didn’t bother thrashing, or fighting it. There was no way out of this, even if he could wriggle free and try to lash out at the woman standing before him the other angels would tear him apart before even touching her head. So he laughs. Wild, hysterical laughter as his body was turned to stone and a moment later shadowy hands erupted out of the ground where the laughing angel now stood, grabbing at the body which was now all but fully made of stone. The last thing to shift was his face, frozen in mid laugh, jaw widely set before it, and he, instantly crumbled and fell to dust as the grasping hands sunk back down into the ground as if they’d never existed at all.

R’hodrhatt got to his feet just in time to see the other crumble to nothing, and he felt his whole body shudder with a fear that almost rooted him in place if not for the burning rage that boiled from his very core. It’s that rage which sent him running not away, but towards the woman. The chances of him reaching her were miniscule, he knew this, but he tried. The four beastly heads upon his shoulders snarled, showing their teeth in pure malice, and anger.

What happened was expected; two of the whirling Chariots were upon him before he was even barely close. They slammed into him with all their might and power, knocking the wind from him and pinning him to the ground yet still his heads lashed out. The wolf snarled and bit down on one of the rings, the horse whined loudly, the hyena barked and whooped hysterically and the boar roared with an anger unlike any heard before. Four white eyes wild and unblinking as God walked towards his pinned body, her expression neutral.

“You’re blind to it!” he snarled, the boars head following the movement of the woman, the almighty, the creator and breaker. “These people, they’re below you, below us, they’ve been below us since you first allowed them to evolve this way! They killed your prophets, they’ve been killing your people and won’t stop! They’re trash, they’re--”

God reached out, and grabbed her hands around the hyenas head. That stopped it dead cold in its lashing out, its ears pinning back as its white eyes gazed at her in pure horror. She stared into his eyes silently, watching him struggle beneath the weight of her Chariots, as well as the pure anger burning through him. “Your lesson will be different.” was all she said, before she tore the hyenas head off of the pinned cherub’s body.

One of the Chariots screeched like a wheel grinding against the floor when there was a sudden brake. The metallic screech filled the air, helping to deafen the sounds of the screaming cherub as it was torn open, an eye on its outer wheel suddenly turning black as sinful night as the same blackness stained the snow beneath them. The screams of the animal heads, with that of a voice fully incapable of explaining just how much pain was going through his body, would turn a human deaf if they were unlucky enough to hear them.

God walked away with the hyena head still clutched in one hand, straggling behind it a formless, black shape which was very rapidly taking form of a being all of itself. Incredibly skinny, thin arms and legs, wings slowly growing from the small of his back and a tail which had been stolen from the rest of the remaining body which remained pinned and bleeding in the snow. But before the black form could take on a more natural colour, it began to turn a reddish, goldish hue that mixed in with the black which smothered the hyenas head. She lifted the body as if it were weightless in her hand until it was held above her head, and the form began to shrink quite rapidly until it was around the size of a small ball.

“You will learn. And until you do, you will never be happy. You will not know peace. Good luck, my child, and I will see you whole again.”

And with that, she threw him. The strength in her throw was remarkable as the small, glowing shape went shooting into the sky, arched, and travelled further than humanly possible. Then again, we weren’t dealing with a human.

The remaining parts of the cherub screamed as they felt the missing part of them go further, and further than they could feel. Lost. He was lost. The heads thrashed, screaming out through twisted mouths as they felt a blackness begin to consume their body. The chariots pulled away quickly as, just like Kokabiel, he began to turn to stone as grasping, reaching hands erupted from beneath to grab onto his flailing body. He felt cold, as if he’d been dropped into the middle of a freezing tundra which had once covered the Earth. The grasping hands felt strong enough that they would pierce his flesh but that was impossible to do as your skin was rapidly turning to stone.

Last thing he saw, as an angel, was his Chariot hovering above him. The eye which had held his soul now black and lifeless.

And then there was nothing but the same blackness. And the freezing cold now circled all around him. Getting to his feet as quickly as he could, the fallen angel spun around in a daze. All around him, a soft gentle snow storm and yet there was no snow upon the ground. He brought his large, now one set of wings, down around his body and his heads felt so wrong. There should be four, but now only three. Walking was so difficult, as if he was learning to walk which was a thing he’d always been capable of. Even the second of his creation to help fill the ranks of Cherubs to sing the joys and love for God, he knew how to walk.

Now he stumbles over his cloven hoofs, and he hits the ground with a solid, heavy thud.

“Oh, another new arrival!” a voice chimed in from the darkness. “Welcome to Hell.”

“NO.” he shouted, turning and opening his wings and shot upwards into the sky. But he wasn’t used to flying with only one set of wings; his lift off was sloppy, he couldn’t carry his weight and he felt like a fledgling just leaving its mothers nest for the first time. However even with all of his bad flying he couldn’t get anywhere; he slammed into a solid brick surface and he dug his claws into it, digging, but getting nowhere as the rock seemed to reform no matter how hard he dug. His wings, already tired, began to droop and before he could realize it the fallen angel plummeted again. He fell, landing on a wing and he rolled onto his side before sitting up almost immediately despite his dizziness, despite his pain (a new feeling), and launched himself at the nearest wall.

He was missing a piece of him and it burned him. Tears began to well in each and every eye he held, and he sobbed for his loss. The loss of his Heaven, his God, his Chariot, his soul. Pressing his three heads against a wall he sobbed, body wrecked with the pain of loss.

“...want something to smoke, man?” the same voice from the darkness asked. “It’ll help calm you down.”

“...thanks.”

~*~

Jamison sat there in silence, expression blank. That had been a lot of information to take in, and the way the Duke had described it, it had felt real, as if it had been happening to him. Technically it had, hadn’t it? He had been the part torn from the rest of him, changed into something else and thrown into the world to receive punishment. Divine justice for harming people. For trying what they’d done. He lowered his eyes to his hands, mostly focusing on his right hand which forever seemed to be reflecting light from a source that sometimes didn’t even exist. He looked back up to the Duke’s face.

“So... for a thousand years...” he started.

“I’ve tried to find you.” the Duke finished. “When I first saw you, being attacked, knowing who you were it took every fibre of myself to not tackle you to the ground and try to... uhh...” the demon paused for a moment and brought a hand up to scratch the back of my head. “Try to push our souls together again. But I could tell doing that would probably ruin any chance I had of you even wanting me around you.”

“To join souls together do you mean fuck me?” Jamison asked.

“No!” the demon had never looked so flustered, or embarrassed, even back when Jamison had tugged on his nipples in that certain way. “I-I mean I. I don’t know. There’s never been something like us. Least, far as I know and I know a lot of demons in Hell.”

“But not everyone.” 

“...but not everyone.” he concedes. It was true, frustrating as it was. “But for all those thousands of years, I’ve never heard of a soul split like us. So I don’t know if... sex is needed for us to be who we were, or if that was just a reaction to us joining physically.”

Jamison looked at him with a thoughtful expression, before he reached his left hand downwards, and pressed it right between the Duke’s legs. When he felt the shape of the demons hidden genitals he purposely squeezed his fingers and palm against the shape, leaning forward to press his lips against an earlobe of the white haired man. “Should we find out if this’ll trigger it too?” he asked in a breathless tone of voice that had the hair on the Duke’s neck standing on end. Jamison remained still for a moment before he offered an embarrassed giggle and snort, before drawing back, bringing his free hand up to hold it against his mouth. “S-sorry that...! Wow that, I don’t know where that came from.”

He felt the thick, strong arms of the Duke wrap themselves around his back and gently pulled him close which made the hot breath against his neck all the more electrifying. “I liked it.” he fully admits.

“I ain’t ever done it though.” Jamison replied breathlessly, lifting a hand and pushing it up through the white hair of the other man, tangling the threads between his fingers. “Thought about it... even when I knew I shouldn’t have...”

“We all have a first time for everything.”

That was true. Was it wrong to want to do this, so shortly after having his very foundation shaken to the core. He was half a soul, torn in two, and punished to be a human while the rest of him suffered in Hell and only now, a thousand years later, had they found one another. His heart still raced at his sudden sensation of not existing as himself, but something far larger, but from what he could recall he’d never known such joy in his life. Happiness had filled him from the feet up and never in all his life had he felt so happy, safe, and loved.

Maybe that’s why he felt so ready to try this, even if he had been partially playing with his words and teasings, the very picture in his mind of taking the Duke’s cock into his mouth and tasting his skin had his body squirming with anticipation. He very slowly slid himself off of the Duke’s lap onto the bed, hands trailing down his shoulders and arms, feeling the taunt, bulging muscles beneath the fabric which wasn’t really fabric. Jamison always tended to forget that; nothing the Duke wore was real, not even the sunglasses. All of it was a part of him, molded and shaped to look like clothing.

It still came as a bit of a surprise when the black pants that the Duke wore seemed to melt into his legs and, it seems for his own benefit, the Duke had kept his lower body looking more human than his true form was. Jamison didn’t understand why he felt a little disappointed by that, but it was hard to feel too upset with the erection of the other man right there, waiting for him. He reached out with his good hand, run a finger against the pubic hair before it pressed against the firm length. Slowly he encased it in his fingers, and he felt himself grow weak at the realization that he couldn’t get his thumb to touch any of his fingers once his hand was fully wrapped around the erection.

“Crikey,” Jamison whispered, giving the length a much a squeeze as he could as the Duke laid back, “This really you?”

“Human me, yeah.” the Duke replied as the sunglasses on his head, same as his pants, melted away to show his glowing white eyes.

“And you put this up me bum?”

“Wholeheartedly.”

“Damn.”

The small talk was making it far more relaxed than it would be, right? Did couples (were they a couple) make small talk before doing something like this or was it all erotic and hot and touching, moaning with every breath? Jamison hated his lack of experience, he’d never even gotten up the nerve to try and watch pornography in all his life. It was a wonder he was brazen enough to simply masturbate every other month. But, that’s what happens when you were brought up feeling like who you were was Wrong with a capital W.

He drew in slowly, running his thumb along the underside of the shaft and he was fairly sure he was drooling out of the corner of his mouth as he pressed in close and pressed his lips against the head. Only when he parted his lips and slid his tongue against the hot, salty flesh did he get a rush of the taste. Jamison shuddered at the taste and texture of the skin, giving the length another squeeze, and he all but made a mess in his underwear when the Duke gave a very loud, rumbling sound of approval.

“Remember,” Jamison mumbled, lips brushing against the head as precum began to slowly trickle down the shape of it, “ain’t done this before..”

“Don’t care.”

His tongue ran up against the underside, before tilting his head to continue licking but now against the girth of it. Jamison wanted to get to know this penis, he wanted to know how it felt, tasted, what it smelled like. He needed the intimacy of it, he craved it more than he thought he would until he finally had it in his hand, within his sights. Was it an obsession? Maybe it was now.

Jamison had imagined, late at nights as he lay awake in his bed, wondering what this would be like the first time he’d get to taste the genitals of another man. He’d never would have imagined in his wildest dreams it would be with a fallen angel, yet here he had the wheezing, towering man shaped creature digging his hands down against the bedding that supported their combined weights. Above him a heaving stomach all but blocked the view of the Duke’s facial expressions, but he could hear his reactions and they were intoxicating.

When his lips closed in over the head the Duke uttered a louder groan, shutting his eyes and tilted his head back as he exhaled deeply through his nose. The wet warmth of Jamison’s mouth was amazing; he felt the pressure of his teeth as his inexperienced mouth closed awkwardly around the head of his erection. He welcomed the inexperience, meant he could be taught all a manner of things in time. And he liked the feeling of those teeth scraping a highly sensitive piece of flesh. Reaching, a large, strong hand reaches down and latches itself onto the top of the balding, blond man. His hand instinctively began to guide the head, easing Jamison’s mouth down as far as he dare to, hearing Jamison’s muffled response, as well as the racing of his heart and his pumping lungs. He could even hear the blood rushing through his veins if he tried to listen hard enough, and he couldn’t sense panic. 

The guiding hand was a saving grace, as Jamison had no idea just how fast or slow someone would like this happening. He couldn’t exactly stop and ask ‘hey am I sucking you off fast enough or should I go slower, or the other way around?’ but instead of removing the delicious length from his sucking mouth to ask, he could remain locked around it, drowning in the taste of it. Bringing both hands up how he held tightly onto the base of the length, one hand shifting down to squeeze the Duke’s balls as he knew that felt oh so wonderful back when he’d dare to masturbate late at night. Oh the rebel he was, back then, daring to think of a man touching him as he touched himself under his thin sheet while a painting of the Virgin Mary hung on the wall just to his left. 

He breathed through his nose, and he was fairly sure he was drooling by now. Or was it a mix of the Duke’s leaking precum and his own spit? He could taste the stuff pooling over his tongue like a constantly dripping tap, and while he swallowed some of it most of it was collecting around his lips only to slip free to dribble down his chin. No doubt it was staining the bedding beneath them, and some poor person would have to deal with a wet patch. Most probably him, like he used to back in the old days of his exploratory teenage years. 

The Duke’s hips suddenly shifted, and this length was thrust into Jamison’s mouth at such a speed his nose was buried in pubic hairs and he was fairly certain he felt the others balls hit his chin. That large hand on top of his head gripped harder, all but holding him in place as the Duke took over and was, promptly, mouth fucking him. He muffled words around the length as it slid over his tongue, but the words and their meaning lost to moment. Jamison gave up all but immediately, and gave himself over to the pleasure, to the myriad of sensations burning through his very core just as he’d done the other night. He squirmed, longing to touch himself, but incapable of pulling his hands away from the other, needing to feel every pulse of his erection, every drip of spit and more that dribbled past them.

So lost in the moment, drowning in his over blown sensory, Jamison failed to realize just how much of the Duke had shifted during this time. One head had grown to two, then three, wings growing from the blackness of his suit and those pubic hairs soon covered his entire lower half and had grown coarser to touch. Toes shifted to hooves and the heat radiating off of them were leaving scorch marks against the bedding. The demon snorted through three sets of noses, yet the moaning coming from within him still remained rooted in one voice. Louder his voice grew, wings spreading and pressing themselves against the wall so strongly they were leaving indents and cracks in their wake. 

He couldn’t even give warning when his release happened. The pressure had been building with the pleasure and he’d lost the tight grip on himself for but a moment and he lost it. He came, hard, and fast and Jamison almost choked as it rushed down his throat triggering his gag reflex and he fought his mouth free and there was a very audible ‘pop’ when the length fell free from his mouth. Jamison spluttered, lifting his hands to cover his coughing mouth and nose which felt like it was running, as well as his eyes. He groaned, running a hand down to wipe the excess off of his chin and shuddered at just how much it felt. When he finally opened his eyes however he wasn’t greeted with a sight of the large man, sitting there pantless on the bed. 

He was met with a demon on the bed, wings pinning themselves into the plaster of the wall, three animal heads each one breathing out plumes of air as if they’d each just run a mile through the wilderness, and on top of that not one sex but--

“Oh good God,” Jamison managed to wheeze as he stared, unable to tear his eyes away from not one, not two, not even three but four sexes there staring at him. Each one dripping cum onto the laundered sheets below. Each one was different too, and there was no clean way of describing either one, so he could only take in the shape and size differences between each one with mouth agape before his eyes finally slowly lifted to lock those with the boars eyes, as those were the ones that were looking right at him. But just as soon as he did that the wolf, and the horse, turned their heads to lock eyes with him as well. The Duke shifted, slowly at first, repositioning himself onto his knees and lowering all three heads, still holding a steady gaze with his own, before suddenly rushing forwards.

Jamison was pinned beneath his weight in seconds and it took him back to when they’d first shared a bed together. How awkward the demon had been when Jamison spoke of pain in his leg, a pain he could not threaten away. The weight of the man pressing on him had sparked little flames within his belly that gave birth to butterflies back then; now, they lit forest fires deep within him and dragons built of lust and want roared to life. Jamison, this time, wrapped his arms around the closest neck he could lock around, that being the boars, and drew himself in and buried his face between the neck of the boar, and the wolf. He felt the boar snort and press itself against him, while the wolf sniffed against his head and hair, licking some of the sweat from his forehead before it continued to pant heavily. 

“You’ve hidden yourself for so long.” Jamison said quietly, voice shaking but not from fear. His glowing hand pushed itself along the razor fur that grew from the neck of the boar, trying to smooth it. “...let me be with you, like this.”

“Nothing else would give me greater pleasure.” the Duke’s voice answered back, feeling like milk and honey as it poured into his ears.

The young man with the very old soul snorted, and drew back before giving the boar's nose a kis. As he did, large, black, blinking wings began to make something like a canopy around the twos heads. The room was already dimly lit, but in doing this it felt as though the whole world had dropped out of existence leaving only the two of them. Jamison hummed in the new, familiar darkness, as he felt three different mouths begin to explore his head, face, neck, and shoulders. His eyes rolled back into his head as the weight and presence of the Duke pressed down against him, but he did not fight it.

He welcomed it. This other part of him.

_To be continued_


	14. Laughter in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Jamison thinks he's finally on top of everything that's been brought to the surface, there's even more he doesn't know about. And who better to learn these things from but himself? And there's things happening behind the scenes that threaten the peace of these peoples world.

When Jamison first exited the room he and the Duke had spent a considerably longer amount of time together than they’d first anticipated, the last person he’d expected to see was Zarya. Yet there she was, in her flowing gown, black wings and protruding halo that was ever present around her head. He immediately blushed and stepped backwards as he hadn’t even considered the idea of somebody being nearby, and what had been said and the noises made within the room had been highly private.

But there she was, and before he could even offer a word or utterance of ‘Why are you here’ which, in hindsight, was incredibly rude to ask of an angel he found himself beset upon by said angel. Her incredibly thick arms which all but rivalled the Duke’s arms in strength and size were wrapped around him, hoisting him easily off of the floor and hugged him tightly. It was the kind of embrace he hadn’t experienced for a long while, the sort that seemed to encase you in its emotional warmth, and he felt his heart flutter as she pressed a hand to the back of his head.

“I am sorry.” she said, voice grave. “I did not see. I could not see you.”

“Uh?” Jamison asks, voice somewhat muffled by the powerful bosom in the way. If he were a straight man he’d probably call this some kind of Heaven. He yelped as he was pulled away from her and held at arm's length, her strong hands grasping his upper arms as she held him aloft off of the ground as she looked him dead in the eyes. That was a curious thing, he realized, when looking upon her. The Duke had white eyes, both in a more human shape but also when he had those multiple animal heads and yet Zarya’s eyes were a bright blue that almost felt like sky gazing. “What do you mean?”

“You are part of Duke,” Zarya said, “And by that are part of me. I am your Chariot, your soul was mine to carry and keep safe. But you were torn away, thrown aside and I had not seen you for so long I could no longer sense you as I could sense him.” she looked to the Duke who was, naturally, reaching forward to gently hoist Jamison from her grip and set him back down safely on the ground. “I could not see you. I am sorry.”

“Pftt,” he snorted, waving a hand as he was easily placed down on the ground once more. “Not your fault love, it was a messy thing for all of us I mean. Don’t know rightly how to still process it all y’know?” lifting his good hand he pushed it through his blond hair. “How is one supposed to react to the news that you’re half an angel? Or that your souls about a thousand years old ‘n you’ve been born again and again and again in a vain hope of findin’ your missin part?”

“It is overwhelming I can only imagine.” she smiled.

“So that... thing we was,” he looks over his shoulder to the Duke, then back to the towering angel. “That’s what happened last night?”

“Two nights ago. You were out for quite a while.” she corrected him. “The stress of it all you were knocked out. But, I am glad to see you are in fine form again. You bounce back fast!”

He felt his cheeks blush at that and he laughed awkwardly, tapping his finger tips together. “Ah... yeah, yeah I do. Resilient, I guess. Anyway! Where are we? We ain’t in the organisation are we?” he asked, suddenly anxious.

“No. I would not take you back there the way I found you. The questions would be too much, and I know hiding what the Duke is would be harder. We will work out tale for what happened. Think up something about demon rising from Hell, we three take it down and then recover away from civilisation due to being knocked around. Make sense, yes?” Zarya asked, tilting her pink haired head to the side.

“...sorry it’s. Hard to focus that an angel’s gonna lie. Ain’t that a sin?”

“Omitting certain truths is not lies. Technically, I am right. A demon did appear, but we took it down. It is for the best that is all they know. We can stay until you have recuperated enough. Your soul,” she tilted her head again, in the opposite direction, and reached a hand out and pressed it against his chest. He could almost feel a burst of power and it knocked him back a little, bringing his hands up to protect his chest. “It is still very unsteady. Worse than when I first see you.”

“Well no offense but when you first met me I just saw my folks get murdered, demons fight, my arm burn its flesh clean off and then saw you two duking it out in the sky. Course I ain’t gonna be settled.” he retorted.

She looked at him and for a briefest of seconds, he almost felt what she thought. It was but a glimpse of her thought process, of something being much worse, but he couldn’t see just what it was. That gave him higher anxiety but before he could voice this the Duke stepped in front of him and he felt a wave of relief. It wasn’t that he was afraid of Zarya, he knew he had no reason to, but him being like this brought more comfort than he thought possible.

“Let him be. He’s learned enough.” he said, tone soft, barely daring or even a threat. “It’s been rough.”

She relaxed and nodded. “I can go and report back at headquarters. Give you two space. I see you need it.” she had also heard that they needed it. Neither were especially quiet, they hadn’t been when they had been one whole creature so there was no reason why they’d be that way now as two separate ones.

“Thanks.”

She looked from the Duke to Jamison, back again, and nodded. But before she vanished she leaned in and gave the towering, large man a fast embrace. For a brief second Jamison swore the Duke was lifted off of the ground just like he’d been done but then she was gone and the Duke was back on solid ground. He turned and looked back at Jamison, offering a smile. “She heard us fucking.”

“Auuugghhh!” Jamison covered his face with his hands, face now well and truly red as blood. “Oh my God, don’t say that I can’t be hearin’ that, oh God.”

“Relax.” he moved over to him, reaching down to gently grip his chin and lifted it in order to bend down and briefly touch his lips to his. “She’s just as physical with Mei. She can’t judge us. She loves us too much.”

Ears as red as the rest of his face Jamison grumbled and slumped his shoulders, before shutting his eyes and yawned slowly. Even if he had been out for a whole day or more, the activities that had transpired in that room of theirs had made him awful tired all over again. He winced a bit and reached down, touching his leg. “Forgot to take it off.”

“You’d forget your head if it weren’t attached.” the Duke chuckled. “C’mon. Get you some proper sleep.”

The bed was as comfortable as it had been the night before. And the company he felt as he climbed into it made it far more wonderful. He settled his head onto the pillow, and the missing heavy weight of his leg helped him to sleep even more soundly. The Duke was besides him as he always had since that first day they’d met, when he’d saved him from that demon intent on consuming him body and soul. Very thought of that made him shiver; if his soul had been eaten that would be the end of him. There would be no restart at that, would it? The Duke would have come so very close to reaching him only to have it ripped away. That thought, that realisation, had Jamison draw closer to him and press his hands desperately against his chest. He felt the roughness, the hair, the solid mass that made up his muscles. 

And with that familiar, strong, warm presence the man fell asleep.

~*~

When his eyes opened, he was in a dark place. He turned his head to the left, and right, all he could see was more darkness. Above him, pitch black. Beneath his feet, nothing solid, only blackness. If there was anything in here with him, he couldn’t see it, eyes just not adjusted to the darkness. If this was a dream, he still wasn’t familiar enough with them to know how they ‘went’. Did he wait for something to happen? Did he make it happen himself? That’s how dreams went, right? He could make anything happen.

So he tried. He shut his eyes tightly and imagined the Duke. Towering, powerful, wings spread, body bared before him and enticingly beautiful. Oh yes, he could dream about that very easily. But when his eyes opened, that was not what he got standing in front of him.

Instead it was a cage. It may have been silver once upon a time, for now the bars were covered in rust and grime. Long had it been abandoned out here, wherever here was. Inside it was pitch blackness that seemed to match that of the darkness around it but, when Jamison squinted at it, he swore he saw it ripple and move. 

Then he heard the laughter. 

It was a crazed, unhinged kind of laughter he’d hear in a television show. There was a warning in that laugh but that was hard to see, hard to hear, because he knew the laugh more than anyone else's because it was his own laugh that was coming from within the cage. It was his but it wasn’t, because of course he wasn’t laughing and he wasn’t sitting in no cage. Jamison looked down at the ground again as the laughter came again, and he wondered if he could walk forward in this. Or if he took a step, would he plummet like a rock? Even if he tried to imagine a floor, maybe it would backfire like this had...

The sound of bending metal suddenly filled the air and Jamison lifted his head and he saw a very skinny, filth covered hand grasping at one of the bars. Its hand, nails more like claws, pressed against the metal and it was bending beneath it like had no strength left to it at all, for that was the truth. A hissing sound suddenly joined the disjointed laughter and a long, black snake slithered out from between some of the metal posts. As it coiled around one or two bars with its incredibly long, thick body It flicked its tongue in the darkness, white eyes gazing around curiously as if it hadn’t seen much of anything in a good long while.

Then wings folded back. They were just like the Duke’s, though they were without glowing red eyes like his. The bent and ruffled feathers scratched against the rusted metal folded back to reveal a face with wild, barely white eyes. Its head was that of a hyena. Mouth hanging open revealed rows of sharp white pointy teeth and a long tongue rolled out and it burst into the same laughter from before. As it did a second hand, mirroring his own for the grown over blackness and golden red hues shining against its crusted shell, grabbed at another bar and pushed roughly against it and the bar could do nothing but slowly buckle and bend beneath the immense strength.

A foot, cloven hoofed, bent up and dug itself against another bar and Jamison could only watch as this creature began to fold out of the old rusted and rotten cage. He barely noticed that it’s right leg, from the knee down, looked just like his right arm. The exact same kind of coating covered the entire lower half of it, even covering the hoof in a glossy coat of black, gold and red. It was only now Jamison finally tried to step back and when he did, just like a time ago, the ground beneath him seemed to fall away and he plummeted like a heavy rock into an ocean. Wind rushed up past him and it was only now he realized he was naked as the day he was born. Yet he’d stood there, even without his prosthetic leg, just fine.

But just as it felt as if he was about to hit solid ground the creature had grabbed him and hoisted him up off of the ground and up into the sky as if he was deadweight. The black wings were growing out of the small of its back, the snake nothing but a tail sticking out from the base of its spine. The hyena head, the hair running down its neck matched the same blond of his own hair but it was ablaze with fire and yet never properly burned. And everything was ruffled, not just the feathers and the burning fur, but the matted fur along his lower half was just as messy as the rest of him.

“Finally!” the creature even spoke with his voice, but it sounded wild, untamed. So very excited. “How long’s it been mate?? Thousand years I been stuck inside your head!” he spun, pressing his forehead right up against Jamison’s own and their eyes burrowed into one another with such intensity he felt the world and universe come to a stop.

A thousand years an angel was torn in two. 

One thousand years ago he’d been torn from the rest of him, and just as he’d reached his consciousness of being alive, being his own creature, he was removed from what was left of him. Through time and space he was thrown, like a leaf in the wind until it was sealed away inside a baby just being born, just like he’d been born. Fully aware of who he was, what he was, and what he had lost he had been burned in that cage. Awake at all times, watching life, upon life, upon life being played out all around him. He had welcomed death every time it worn down to nothing, hoping and praying this was the life that would lead to the end of his suffering but it never was.

Until at last, one night, he saw him at last. He could feel him the second he’d turned that corner. He knew who he was, the Duke, at the very sight of him. He’d slammed himself up against the cage like a vicious animal, knocking rust free, reaching with both outstretched hands trying to reach him despite this old, rusted cage forged by God themselves kept tight. From within he screamed their true, full name that hadn’t been spoken in over a thousand years but it had fallen on deaf ears. He couldn’t hear him. None of them could. None of them ever had. Until now.

“You ‘n me?” the hyena asked, eyes wet, “You are me. I’m you! We always been like this, but you never let me in did ya? Never opened yourself proper even when you was learnin’ all them good for nothin’ fancy words in those bloody books that praised the one who DID THIS TO US!” he laughed again, giggling, cackling before pressing his cheek against Jamison’s own. “Oh mate, mate mate mate I been wantin’ this. Been wantin’ ta meet you proper. To finally see what kinda human I been twisted into and made like. Chip off the old block you are, but then again each time you’re like that! Just like me only ugly. Only human. Christ look at ya! Yer ugly as sin!” 

He laughed again and Jamison felt rightly insulted and frowned, but found himself incapable of making a sound. Then a hand was slapped right hard against his face, turning into a good hard pinched cheek. “Well mate. Sick of you bein’ not at the reigns all the time. You and me? Gonna be who we’re meant to be. I wanna see him. I...” the hyenas eyes were wet again as he released the grip on his cheek to press it against his chest, patting above his heart. “I need to touch him myself. With my own hands y’know? He’s me. I’m him. You’re me too. We been all so incomplete for so long, I forget what it’s like. And it’s all so convoluted ain’t it? Findin’ out you’re an angel who got torn up and one part sent to Hell Christ I don’t know how you ain’t gone mad yet!”

“I don’t either.” Jamison finally spoke.

~*~

She’d been sitting at her desk, typing up reports and her fingers flew against the projected keyboard it looked like she was just gliding her fingers delicately without a rhythm. Purple nails deftly tapped the plastic desk, and her lidded eyes scanned a holo projected screen, expression one of non interest. This stuff was so easily done, it was a surprise they hadn’t just built an omnic to do this stuff. Then again this place did seem to prefer the human touch... ironic, seeing that she wasn’t human at all.

There was a sudden rush of cool wind rushing up behind her. On the screen, for the quickest of a nano-second an alarm began to start but it didn’t even exist for long enough to set it off entirely before her counter-alarm smothered it. Someone demonic had arrived, but it wasn’t the Duke, because this system was already arranged to not even trigger when he arrived but this was somebody else. That immediately put her on edge and the woman faded into nothing; she had to scope out who she was. In this form she could move far faster than a human could, and she knew these halls and floors like the back of her hand now she could easily--

A hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed the back of her neck and Sombra choked out a scream as she was slammed up against a wall by a hand that was made of bone, and its clothing seemingly made of swirling gas and stars. It almost reminded her of the stories of Death, whose cloak was made of the darkness of the galaxy. But this did not bring a comforting sensation of a death well earned, well deserved. This terrified her because she knew who this was.

“Great Lord Kokabiel.” she choked, not even daring to raise her hands to claw at his wrists. He could touch her; not the other way around less she wanted her throat torn out.

“Hello m’dear.” he replied. “I can smell my most favourite Duke in these halls. On you, even. Took a lot of my power to just catch wind of the big lug, using my own magic against me like that. He is smart, isn’t he?” Kokabiel chuckled as he released the lesser demon, letting her drop to the ground. “That’s why he’s one of my best Dukes. There with me, was he, when I was banished. We were both banished together and he’s been by my side ever since until now. Do you know why? Do you?”

She rubbed at her throat, and only once her breathing was righted did she get onto her knees and bent further down than she did for the Duke. Her forehead was practically pressing against the floor. “He’s here for his other half.” she admitted, having no choice but to be honest here. Who was she, to lie to a Grand Arch Duke? “He found him. A skinny blond dude who looks like half his head’s balding and he’s not even thirty yet.”

Kokabiel’s skull face remained neutral as it always did and yet she swore she saw it shift its expression to realisation. He said nothing as he stood over her, brain running. Of course. He’d been distraught when he’d arrived at Hell. Missing one of his heads. Crying uncontrollably and it had taken a lot to finally calm his heart; but ever since he’d never been the same R’hodrhatt he’d been before. He even demanded to be named to be named Roh’Dhog instead, because he wasn’t R’hodrhatt without his whole soul. Why hadn’t he seen it? One thousand years searching and going behind his back, behind his work, to do what? Find his soul?

Now he felt stupid. And a Grand Duke who ran a house in the 6th layer of Hell did not like being made a fool of. He took a deep breath despite owning no lungs, and looked back down at the grovelling demon beneath him. Lifting a leg, his skeletal foot came down atop the back of Sombra’s head, pushing her further down. “You’re mine. You’re my eyes. When they get back, do let me know won’t you? And I’ll know if you run your mouth and tell them that I know. Are we in an understanding?”

“Yes, my Grand Arch Duke.” Sombra answered immediately. “I won’t speak a word.”

“Good girl.”

And he was gone as quickly as he appeared, the pressure on the back of her head vanishing the instant he did. Sombra got up again, slowly, before quickly smoothing herself out and running her fingers through her long brown hair. Scoffing, she faded from sight seamlessly. There wasn't a sound as her feet hurried down the halls; no camera picked up her movements, just as it had been for years. There was nothing but the silence of the organisation in its pristine, quiet kingdom.

~*~

The sound of Jamison hitting the ground awoke the Duke immediately. He sat up, turned his head to see the man ass over head on the floor, leg stuck at an awkward angle and looking generally confused. “Jamison?” he asks, but when the other sits on the floor he realizes something isn’t right. When the young man gets to his feet, leaning against the bed, he hops his way over to the mirror that hangs on the wall. He presses both hands against the wall on either side of the mirror and looked at himself in a way that made it feel like he hadn’t really ever seen himself before.

“Jamison.” the Duke spoke again, louder. “What is it?”

“Nothin’, mate...” Jamison replied quietly. “Had a nightmare.”

“What about?” he moved closer now, climbing over the bed to stand behind him. “Hey, it’s alright. Nightmares can’t hurt you, you know that.”

“Do I?” he asked, eyes still looking over himself. He felt well rested, refreshed even. “...I can’t even remember what it was about. Ain’t that silly?” Jamison tears his eyes away from himself to look upon the reflexion of the Duke. “Here I am standin’ with a demon knowing I’m part of you and I still gotta question how I’m still here.”

The Duke reached down and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, and pressed his lips to the back of his head. He exhaled softly, shutting his eyes as he did. “You’re stronger than you know you are. You’re capable of so much, and I know I’m going to be there to see it. When you learn it, when you see it, and live it. It’s going to be amazing.”

Jamison felt his eyes grow wet at these words and brought his hands up, pressing them both to those strong arms wrapped around him. He’d heard words like this before in his life. Never had he truly believed in them. But from within him, a sudden burst of realisation that ‘Yes. That’s true. I’m amazing, I’m going to be nothing but amazing and you’re damn right for seeing it’. Such a boastful thought had never graced his mind before and it surprised him. 

He liked it.

His smile reflected in the mirror and for the briefest of moments his teeth weren’t his own. They were sharp, jagged, belonging more in an animals mouth than his own but they were suddenly normal again. Did he imagine that? Was his nightmare still clinging to him, even in his waking form? He frowned, before leaning his head back against the chest of the other. 

“It will.” he said, voicing the swell of confidence which still burned within his chest. “I’m gonna be amazing.”

~*~

The cavern was being monitored closer now than it had been for the past hundreds of thousands years. Never had there been stationed demons watching the ice, reporting on new cracks, on the rising water levels since what else happened when ice began to break down? That was a threat to their home, as all of Hell was built on flat, solid ground. While there were mountains that towered in the distance they were uninhabitable. Once there'd been an attempt to build houses on the foundation but the rock would crumble without warning, killing many demons in the process. So the only answer was building homes for yourself, your family, on the ground. All level. Which meant that lake, the lake that felt like it stretched on forever that helped bring the chill of the wind and the frost and snow that clung to clothes and trees but never the ground, was an ever present threat to them.

There was a sudden loud rumbling from within the cave, and a block of ice the size of a fairly large human city suddenly ruptured upwards. It went so high it struck the top of the cavern ceiling sending stalactites tumbling to the ground. They struck the ice, piercing through some blocks of ice while others shattered on impact. Demons scurried for safety out of the danger area, screaming alerts that the activity was getting worse and faster than they had ever anticipated.

This was bad, very, very bad.

_To be continued_


	15. J'nkrhatt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consider this chapter a small breather for y'all. 
> 
> A small look into the history of the fallen angel which had been living vicariously through one thousand years worth of lives who only just now has found the power and strength to communicate with his beloved human Jamison.

He’d been born screaming and pain was his first friend as it rippled through his newly formed body. Loneliness would be his second friend as a great sense of it made a weak attempt to smother the pain. He was only a few seconds old but already he knew he was alone; he was missing a part of himself and he didn’t know where the rest of it was. His screaming grew louder still, shaking the very fabric of his new, alien being. 

The burning light which had blinded his eyes suddenly turned dark. Whistling winds and the harsh biting cold of the winter weather which had tickled at his new body felt as if it had been switched off.

His new spine tried to stretch but his first real stretch was stopped by cold, metal bars that seemed to bloom around him. Spinning around, he slammed newly formed hoofed feet in an attempt to get his footing but they slipped against the metal. His wings pushed their way through the breaks in the metal bars, thrashing and flapping in hopes of breaking free of the cage but nothing was working.

Opening his jaw he let out low, pitiful whooping sounds before they erupted into slowly growing screams of distress. Baring his teeth he snarled at the darkness that now surrounded him, grasping human hands that were on skinny, stick like arms unlike the bulky, strong arms he normally possessed gripped at the bars. His body felt so weak, so very frail and unlike the one he’d been created into eons ago.

Just how long he’d been screaming and barking in the darkness he did not know, for exhaustion was not a thing angels normally felt, if ever. Their bodies built for sustaining their purpose; his had been song. It had always been for singing so growing breathless or tired from making noise was a foreign thing to him. So when his lungs began to hurt he began to go into genuine shock, pitiful whimpering filling the void that was now his home as he collapsed at the bottom of his cage.

This must be Hell.

Eventually he named himself. He picked J'nkrhatt.

The first sound he heard that wasn’t his own was crying. Drifting to his furry ears, he heard the crying of a child. Loud, hysterical cries of a baby just born and it echoed louder still as he lifted his head, confused, curious, and maybe a bit worried. Was it hurt? Where was it? Could he get out of this cage to help it? Rattling the cage for the millionth time told him no, he could not.

It didn’t take long for him to soon learn, and realise, what this was. Where he was.

His soul was locked in a human’s. Linked with it, sealed away at its centre and what he could hear was the sounds of his human’s life. He heard their words, their thoughts, but little more than that. He saw nothing else, true, but he could hear their surroundings. People talking to them which was always interesting since he would hear his human’s inner thoughts but then hear their true words. So many lies. So many hidden emotions.

Biggest mistake he ever made was growing fond of the human. They were soon laughing over the same things, having one sided conversations because humans were so quick to talk to themselves. If only this person knew who was hidden within their soul, if only they knew that they were getting answers to their questions. He couldn’t call it love; he’d never love anyone beyond himself, his other self, his missing half who he missed every second of the day. 

His mistake of growing fond of his human turned on him the day his human died. That day was one of the most traumatic for him as his darkness burned to white and while he couldn’t feel the physical pain his human felt, he could pick up the ripples of it. 

Terror filled him that day. Was he dying too? Would he never get a chance to fly free again? Never catch a glance of his lost soul mate? He screamed, he howled and scratched at the cage, hysterics running through him as he tried to tear free but the cage was unmoving. The whiteness grew brighter, and brighter, before it suddenly clicked to black. Nothing had changed. He was still alive, he was still trapped, and then in the distance he heard soft crying again.

He realized, finally, that he was stuck in a loop. It was a different human but the punishment remained the same. Every life found its end and he survived each one only to live through yet another human life.

It was almost maddening.

Soon he’d lost track of how many lives he’d been through. Countless lives, short, long, abrupt, wild, calm, he saw each and every one. And despite knowing fondness was a waste of effort, he did it each and every time. They were a part of him, no matter how different they were from him. Each one had such a lack of self esteem and happiness, true warmth and acceptance always seemed to be lacking for them and he had to wonder if this was part of his punishment as well.

To be overflowing with his own confidence yet his human to be lacking.

But then he was born once again, and soon learned the name of his human was Jamison Fawkes. He seemed no different to some of his past lives, very anxious, filled with self doubt and questioning himself over his sexuality. How many nights he answered back to those thoughts ‘I’m gay, that’s so disgusting’ and answering with ‘no it isn’t’ but no matter how loudly he answered those thoughts, as always, they were unheard. 

This part was the worst. Knowing truths, but unable to communicate them to his human who was clearly suffering. He wanted him, like all of his humans, to know their true worth and value. To know they mattered and were loved and were never alone. That they were loved, even a little, but a small, lost half fallen angel sealed deep within them.

One night a scarily familiar darkness seeped into his consciousness. Something dangerous was nearby and all the fur along his neck was standing on end as he circled within the cage, his wings drawn in close around him like protective arms. This feeling, this foreboding dread, it was from Hell itself. Lifting his head he yelled to his human to run, to ride his bike faster because it was practically upon them and suddenly he felt the lurch of his human, his Jamison, be thrown against a wall. Whiteness began to burn at the corners of his darkness and he pleaded to God, to Satan, to Jamison, that this wasn’t the end of it because if a demon were to consume a human soul that was it.

No more reincarnation. No nothing. His existence, no matter how pitiful and pathetic it had been for one thousand years, would be over. And he didn’t want it to end like this.

And that’s when J'nkrhatt was graced with a far more familiar sensation that smothered and destroyed the demons presence. A feeling, a scent, a warmth that had him push all of his strength against the bars of the cage desperately as he pushed his head through the gaps, along with his legs, arms and wings. 

“ **Shut. Up.** ”

Those were the first words he heard him speak and he knew who it was even more. That same voice had been screaming during his creation. It was his other half. After so long of waiting, and hoping, he would find him he had and he was so close. Tears ran down his face as he whimpered loudly, gripping at the bars desperately, wishing as hard as he had ever done before for them to crumble and turn to dust under his hands.

“You found me.” he whispered weakly, voice trembling as his entire body burned. “You never stopped lookin did ya?” J'nkrhatt asked, pausing to press his face against the bars, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “I prayed so hard. Took ya so long to find me didn’t it... but ya did it...”

He hadn’t known joy like this. Even if he couldn’t see him, he could sense him, and hear him. The warmth and happiness that filled him was unlike any he’d felt in all his existence. “Never leave me,” he whispered desperately. “Please, don’t. Been waitin’ for all this time don’t deny me your presence ever.”

Curled within his cage he pressed his entire body against it, trying to imagine the familiar, hard metal as the body of the other. He didn’t have to wonder what he looked like, Jamison had all but described him as he’d looked over him in wonder, awe, and fear. A giant of a man, large hands and thick arms. A thicker middle, all dressed in black wearing sunglasses and his hair as silver as the bars that held him. He imagined what it would feel like being held in those arms, pressing close against muscle and fat and he was 100% certain Jamison was thinking the same thing despite himself.

His sense of ease was ruptured though. That same dread which had been following him, a distant foreboding whisper, was back and it was louder and before he knew what was happening his world was being thrown around. That desperate hunger of a demon was on him again, burning at Jamison’s body and his soul so much he could feel parts of Jamison starting to be consumed. 

_No, not now._

Not after finally finding his soul again. Finding Roh’Dhog only to be erased from existence on the same day? He wasn’t going to stand for this, not at all. And when he felt a rush of holy power suddenly hit him, the water, the rosary that’d belonged to Mother and blessed by a Pope of God herself, it triggered within him the biggest self defense a fallen angel could muster.

For a thousand years his Grace had laid dormant. Each angel was made with Grace in their soul; the thing that granted them their powers. Their abilities, their magic, everything they were boiled down to that Grace that was built into every single Angel. With this burst of holy energy mixing with his Grace, J'nkrhatt threw up his defenses. It fortified, it emboldened itself, protecting the arm that was being eaten away at and his power burst through into the Holy Water and he burned the demon.

His own burning pain subsided as he felt Roh’Dhog grab him.

And that’s when he realized it; he could feel. It had been a thousand years since his birth and he’d never felt anything beyond his cage and the cold but now he could feel what Jamison was feeling. That large hand around his arm, another hand to his back; he could feel the others presence all around him and it was a blessing. Maybe a bit of a curse as he couldn’t touch him back but he would take what Jamison would give him.

Take is what he did, too.

Over the progressing months J'nkrhatt continued to live in a way he hadn’t lived before. He could finally feel things and he enjoyed every single thing. Be it the wind in Jamison’s hair, the feeling of clothing rustling against his body, but most importantly the touch of the Duke’s hands against his body. And wow, he was touchy. He especially loved when it came time to sleep, as he could feel the warmth and presence of the Duke pressing against him so tenderly it made him whimper with want.

This had to be the greatest, and worst, time of his entire life. To be so close to the one he’d longed for so long for, only to be incapable of directly talking with him. To do all he, and Jamison both, wanted to do with him. 

Until finally, one night, they did it. 

And it was beyond what J'nkrhatt had hoped it would be. He’d never known pleasure like this, he could feel absolutely everything as he rocked within the cage desperate for release from both this, and his physical restraints. Louder and louder he cried, speaking the language of Angels which even humans couldn’t begin to comprehend, lost in the pleasure and joy of the moment he almost didn’t hear the voice answering him back.

Opening his eyes J'nkrhatt was met with a vision he’d never seen before. All this time it had been just him in the darkness of this void but now, appearing from the darkness, was Roh’Dhogg. Those three animal heads gazing at him, three sets of eyes locked on him as he came charging towards the cage like a one angel stampede. J'nkrhatt held his arms out to him through the cage, his body trembling, needing the touch of the other so badly he felt like he’d go completely insane if he were denied it this moment.

Roh’Dhogg slammed against the cage and the aging silver crumbled beneath his immense weight and the second their grasping hands found one another in the outside world their human, or human like, bodies found release and for the first time in one thousand years their souls and bodies were one once more.

It was beyond euphoric and no words in any language in existence could describe the absolute joy that consumed the two lost, wandering souls for finally they had found one another, and no force in Heaven or Hell would keep them apart now.

Even if their alliances would technically keep their souls and body from being one for too long, beyond that, there was nothing. They had one another, at last, and neither had known happiness like they did now.

The one thousand years of hoping and searching had finally paid off.

_To be continued_


	16. Blood in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What starts as a simple mission to get seen to, pain erupts and Jamison finds his world, once more, thrown upside down.

The smell of cotton candy drifted on the wind long after the fact they’d stopped being made hours ago. Delighted squeals of the children partaking in the rides, and being scammed by rigged carney games, had drifted away on that same wind. Long shadows were cast across the ground, stretching and distorting under flickering lights that acted as if they were seconds away from finally bursting to eternal darkness. Discarded garbage that hadn’t been picked up was scattered by a cross breeze, and Jamison made a face as he kicked an abandoned, empty peanut bag aside which came too close.

Why were carnivals at night one of the scariest places to be?

“You’re jumpy.” the Duke commented as he walked underneath a still, creaking ferris wheel.

“You can’t deny this place is freaky.” Jamison snapped back. “Swear I can hear kids gigglin’ and there aren’t any kids here.”

The Duke wanted to point out that was possibly the actions of the demons they were hunting, but decided to hold his tongue. He smiled a very faint, small, smile as Jamison pulled out a flashlight and flicked it on. That only helped to enhance the scary looking shadows, making them twist and stretch even further than before.

Now, the two had been on their way back to the base center of operations but then they’d gotten an alert. There’d been reports of something wrong going on in the carnival, and the police had already combed the place for criminal activity but turned up short. That still hadn’t stopped the unnatural things from happening, of voices being heard where there weren’t any, sensations of cold spots, and one report from a fairly young fair goer who had sworn she’d seen a clown walk through a solid wall as if it were nothing.

Chalked up as a childs overactive imagination, clearly due to her eating too many sweet things while at the carnival. But there’d been too many reports filtering through the right channels and it’d been far too many by now. And even if the two had been returning back to what was considered, now, their home since they were the closest agents they’d been sent there. Another perfect timing, as Satya would say.

“Any sign of anything yet?” Jamison asked.

“Besides litter? No.”

Jamison snorted a little as he dipped around a corner and came to a stop; it seemed that they’d come across the carnie games area. All around him there were stalls set up with plush toys up for the winners, each of them as bootlegged as the last. He saw some of the plushes were lacking some key details, like eyes, and the stitching was not the best at all. 

“...when I was little I always wanted to go to one of these.” Jamison mused quietly, reaching a hand out to touch what was probably, in some child’s eyes, a tiger.

“You never went to a carnival?” the Duke asked, as he’d followed him as diligently as he always did.

“Nah. I was found after the Omnium blast in the out back when I was something like five. Six. Taken right in by the church as I had no family to speak of,” he stroked the tigers ear slowly. “And it was all lessons. I had so much to learn, y’see. We all did. And Father James, he was so strict.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Should he offer pity? Apologize for a childhood lost? His soul had lived through a thousand years worth of childhoods, but he had no memory of that did he? All he could remember, as he was now, was the life he was living now. 

“How about we go to one together? Well. Not this one. Definitely not this one.”

Jamison laughed, pulling away from the stall. “You hopeless romantic.”

“It’s romantic?” the Duke asked.

“To go to a carnival?” he asked. “Hell yeah it is! It’s like a cliche in tv and movies. I never saw how it is, you’re surrounded by noisy people, games, rides, how can you have an intimate moment in a place like this?”

“Humans have always been strange.” 

He had to hand him that, at least. Still, nice as this little talk was, they had a job to do and they weren’t going to get it completed by standing around gas bagging all night. Not only that, the sky was looking darker, and those clouds looked like the sort that carried rain. He never liked getting caught out in the rain, though he couldn’t really put his finger on just why he hated it as much as he did.

His train of thought was derailed when he heard footsteps. They were supposed to be the only two here; the after dark staff had already left, clean up was done for the most part. The only security were those at the front gates, and they were far from where they were now. The Duke seemed to pick up on this sound too, lifting his head, and placing a hand firmly on his shoulder.

They weren’t alone. Both knew to enter quiet mode, now. The Duke lead the way, moving down the alley way, despite being as massive as he was somehow he didn’t make a sound at all. Jamison fell along behind him, not being nearly as quiet unfortunately. As they made it around the corner he stalled a moment, frowning as he saw the empty, still roundabout set in front of them. The brightly coloured horses and other four legged animals looked creepy in the night sky with what little moonlight filtering through the darkening clouds. Open, smiling mouths matched with vacant, unblinking eyes... it made Jamison feel uncomfortable.

The Duke walked up and onto the device, and it creaked beneath his weight despite his best efforts. He turned his head left, and right, holding a hand back with his palm open; a sign to Jamison to keep still where he was. He didn’t know where the threat was so far, after all.

That’s when he saw the movement. One of the animals suddenly moved. The horse with green skin suddenly moved its head to the side, and before Jamison could shout a warning or move for himself it had ripped itself off of the pole it seemed to be attached to and hurled itself onto the Duke. For being so small, it was clear that it had strength for it knocked the towering, massive form of the Duke right off of his feet. He slammed into the other animals on the roundabout that crumbled and broke beneath the combined weight of the two, and the Duke was slammed into the ground before the force sent him up against a wall.

Jamison, once upon a time, would have stood by in a panic.

But with a sudden surge of confidence and might he took off running at the demon, who still held the distorted body of the green horse as it brought hooves down on the Dukes dazed head. Why wasn’t the Duke fighting back? He looked as though he was suddenly in immense pain, there were even tears beneath his glasses and he still wasn’t trying to pull himself up. But when Jamison suddenly leaped in, slamming his fist against the cracking plastic skin of the horse he seemed to finally awaken.

With a swipe of his massive hand the horse bolted, but not before spinning mid air, landing its hooves onto Jamison’s head and used the monumentum to send himself flying in the opposite direction.

And for a split second, Jamison was five years old again. He was in the rain, and it stung as it hit his skin. It seemed to burn his clothes. Tears ran down his face as he cried in pain, and in utter emotional pain as well. 

The flashback was gone as quickly as it arrived and Jamison felt wetness on his face. He looked up, suddenly startled to find himself in the present again as the Duke took off after the fleeing creature.

“W-what the Hell was that?” Jamison spluttered.

“It uses past pain against you. Don’t let her touch you again.” 

Her? Okay, that’s fine. She had bolted and the Duke was off running after her, and Jamison despite feeling rattled by a sudden resurgence of a memory he’d long since forgotten, took off after the two. The skies above seemed to finally crack open, lightning illuminating the entire area for a split second before being followed by a sudden rush of water. Jamison almost slipped as he spun round a corner, but instead he bumped into the Duke’s back. He bounced off of the massive figure and fell backwards onto his butt, and when he looked up again the Duke had partly transformed. His clothing was now gone, instead having his big, black, red eyed wings protruding out of his shoulder blades. Fur began to sprout from the waist down but his head remained human, though he would most likely transform that any moment soon.

“Lost her.”

That wasn’t good. There were so many places to hide in this place.

“What should she be after any way?” Jamison asked, getting himself to his feet. 

“Demons sometimes have no real goal. Just trouble. But we need to stop her before she kills someone.”

That was true. Each demon grew bolder, stronger, and it wouldn’t be long until there’d be a terrible ‘accident’ at the carnival and someone would die. He shudder to imagine a child dying because a demon went unchecked. It wouldn’t reach that far, of course. Not with the Duke and him on the case. This thing, this female demon, was going down.

But now she was lost and she would most likely disguise herself again as something. No big deal. A shape shifting demon who brought on painful memories, making you incapable of fighting back. If at least one of them kept their distance, they should be alright. If they didn’t know better, they’d probably propose splitting up to cover more ground but they both knew they were stronger together. Sticking close the two began moving again, the Duke’s eyes peeled to the ground looking for footprints that didn’t belong while Jamison kept his eyes glued to their surroundings, trying to spot the thing that didn’t fit in.

No problem. They’d tackled a possessed old man in the desert, right?

That’s when they had Mei’s help, though. Now they were alone in this fight. Jamison didn’t feel nervous, though. His usual anxiety and fear was on the backburner, instead replaced with a burning desire to prove himself to not only himself, but to the Duke besides him.

For now, in the drizzling rain, the two continued to search. They passed the stuffed toys, protected by the overhanging protection above them, but it couldn’t save all of them. A few looked more than a little soggy. Moving past them, the two entered the section where the haunted funhouse, and maze of mirrors was set up. It looked even creepier in the dark, aided by the creepy rain. How the Hell could you try to sniff out something that didn’t belong around here? Jamison especially didn’t trust a creepy looking clown that looked like a knock off IT standing by the exit of the haunted house, holding its red balloons, smiling creepily.

If that turned out to be the demon, he would not be surprised.

“C’mon.” the Duke said as he approached the funhouse.

“You’re kidding.”

“Footprints leading in.” he reported, pointing down at the muddy hoofprints. “None coming out. C’mon.”

He hadn’t been in a haunted funhouse in his entire life, so he had no idea what to expect honestly. Didn’t they pay workers to dress up and hop out, scaring attendees? What a fast way to give some old guy a heart attack, or a kid permanent trauma. He followed the Duke inside, even gladder he’d brought a flashlight as the place was pitch black inside. Sure, the Duke could most likely see quite fine in here but him, not so much. The walls were painted like rusted, abandoned prisons. Chains hung down, coated in spider webs, and the ground groaned underneath the Duke’s weight as he squeezed himself down the narrow, low ceiling of the hall.

“Keep your eyes peeled.”

“Like an apple.”

There were obvious pressure traps too. If this place was powered properly, stepping on them would trigger something to pop out and go ‘boo’ most like. Or the signal for an employee wearing a disguise to leap out, terrifying the poor soul in here. But despite the lack of power and people shouting ‘boo’ this place still was incredibly creepy. The rain was hitting the roof outside, the air was cold, and he could see his breath in front of him as he stayed close to the Duke.

Both of them felt something off about the last room though. It was a posed murder scene, figures spread around in a grizzly scene that would turn a kids stomach if they saw it. Leatherface, or someone very much like him, was stood there with his chainsaw lifted above his head. Below him a few people chopped up. Clearly fake. Everything in here was, but there was something that didn’t belong. 

The Duke’s eyes glided over a wall and for a second he saw writing on it. 

**‘DANGER. DON’T COME HOME. UNSAFE’**

And a second later it was gone, as if it didn’t exist. He didn’t know if this was the work of the demon, some magic technology utilized by the carnival, or something else entirely. It had been in purple, hadn’t it? That immediately put Sombra in his mind. Was she warning him? Home? Dangerous? Why couldn’t she tell him more? 

His distraction was enough for the television set, which was very intact and not covered in blood, to suddenly act. Its four legs tore away from the ground and threw itself onto the Duke, its screen flickering to life as it slammed into him, shattering on impact. The Duke snarled, his glasses now gone from his face revealing his burning white eyes. He was clearly stunned again, tears already beginning to form in his eyes but Jamison acted first before he could stagger, or worse. He brought his hand around and slammed it against the screen, not only that, seemingly just touching it made the television erupt in a sudden explosion of hot, white flames. Its screeching sounded like static, the shards of shattered television glass flickering like a broken channel before it fell to the ground.

It cracked open like a metalic egg and what erupted from it was a swirling form of black and blue streaks. The black swarms seemed to look like hair, almost, and the blue streaks seemed to become something like flesh but it did not spend enough time to form for long, as it rushed out of the open door as fast as it could. However it didn’t get far in the open air, as the rain had made the steps out of the house slippery and it seemed to trip over its own feet before slamming down into the mud. Perfect time for the Duke to break out of the doorway and tackle the creature with a great amount of force and strength.

Jamison came out of the door, watching the two fight on the ground like a pair of animals. He watched the thick muscles of the Duke flex, the rain falling on his body following the curves of his body, if not vanishing into the thick fur of his lower body. His body gave pause as he watched, all but transfixed by the sight as the Duke’s head split into three vicious, dangerous animal heads who attacked as one against the writhing demon beneath him.

The settling rain beneath them was starting to turn black; the demons blood seeping from open, bloody wounds that were torn further open by sharpened teeth, as well as large, hooked tusks. Its language was garbled and Jamison couldn’t understand it, he never could but he never bothered to ask the Duke what they said. They were most likely curses, or pleads for mercy. All fell on deaf ears. Making his way down the steps he smiled widely as he watched the fight reaching its natural conclusion; there was very little that offered a true challenge against the Duke. He was too old, far too powerful, and rich with experience.

With a dying screech the demon seemed to begin to melt into the rain, and melt to nothing but muddy, black and blue puddles, the Duke lifts his three heads to look at Jamison as he approaches but there’s a sudden blast of gun fire that fills the air the same moment another bolt of lightning fills the air. Jamison is shocked and freezes in place as he sees the Duke react; the blast going right through his left shoulder, tearing a hole in his wing and the sheer force seems to knock him down.

Quickly Jamison looks for the source of the shot and sees two men standing across the way. Where had they come from? Had they been here all along? And just how was it they were able to hurt the Duke like that? Bullets shouldn’t work on him, nothing man made should--

“Shoot him again!” shouted the taller of the two as he moved around behind the shorter man, “I’ll get him out of here!”

“What?” Jamison asks before the tall man suddenly grabs him, and yanks him away. What was going on?

The Duke, feeling winded and the white, hot burning of something holy digging into his flesh lifts one of his heads to see a strange man leading Jamison away. Rational thinking goes out the door at this sight and demonic, animal instincts kick in. He roars and gets to his feet, and moves to give chase but another eruption of flames burns at his stomach and he hits the ground. These shots, whatever it was that he was being hit with, it had holy power. A blessed gun? Holy bullets? Whatever it was, it gave him immense pain the likes of which he had not felt in ages.

“NO!” Jamison screamed, trying to pull away from the tall man’s grasp but he was stronger than he looked. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

“Danny get the priest outta here NOW.” said the one with the gun, who was moving closer to the Duke, reloading the gun. 

“He’s tougher than he looks!” Danny said as he, again, tried to restrain Jamison.

But his attempts are thwarted when Jamison slips free for just a second, turns against him, grapples his arm and uses his height, and weight, against him. Danny is hurled down to the ground, slammed against the wet, muddy floor with more force than someone of Jamison’s size should be capable of. He runs towards the Duke, trying to shield someone far larger than himself, turning to face their attackers. “BACK OFF.”

“Look, buddy, I don’t know what that things been telling you but it isn’t safe, it’s-”

“He has a NAME,” Jamison snarled, “But you don’t deserve to know it.”

“Oh boy you got it bad.”

He clearly thought he was in the right. Jamison knew what this looked like. A multi headed demon. A priest. Some would think it looked like he’d been swayed to the dark side, but maybe slaying the demon would save his soul. These men, they didn’t know the story. They didn’t know their union, their link, that was older than the two of them. “He’s mine,” Jamison tried to explain, “He’s mine ‘n you aren’t taking him away from me, you wanna shoot him you’re going to have to get past Jamison Fawkes.”

“Sean,” Danny, who’d finally regained his composure, was getting to his feet. “Don’t shoot a priest--”

“I’m not gonna shoot him!” Sean snapped back angrily, “But we can’t let that big guy just get away with--”

A large, black, red eye dotted wing slapped forward and slammed itself against Sean. He fell back, his gun discharged again, and Jamison heard the Duke roar. But then he felt those massive arms wrap around him, and then the ground below fell away. They soared upwards, faster than he’d ever felt him go before and he felt the vertigo strike at the sudden velocity. He felt the warmth of blood, a familiar feeling, but knowing it was the Duke’s blood spewing over his back and along his arms was gripped by worry. He was hurt, he shouldn’t be exerting himself, but he had to put distance between both of them and the two men below. The real threat was gone; they didn’t know that.

Whatever it was they had shot the Duke with, it had done its job. For as soon as they’d gone upwards, they were beginning to drop. The ground was coming right back to them, away from the carnival, and coming down fast towards a beach. The Duke struggled to keep his wings open but one was riddled with holes, the healing process that was normally instantaneous wasn’t fast anymore. He felt pain in his chest, his stomach, wings as well as one of his faces. Jamison hadn’t seen it, buy the horse head had been shot with whatever bullet that man had been holding. The splashback from it had coated the head, it burned away the skin, had melted down past its muscles and now part of its skeletal structure was visible. Even one of its eyes was gone, burned to nothing and the pain was agony.

The landing was rough. Jamison tried to keep a grip on the Duke but he slipped free and felt the coldness of the ocean water suddenly splash over him as he landed in the shallows. Spluttering he sat up, turning to get a good look at the Duke and he gasped in horror at the state of him. Parts of his flesh, or fur, had been melted away. Gaping holes shown where he’d been shot, and steam was emitting from them as profusely as the black, oozing blood that poured out of them. It was thick like tar, and stank horribly.

The Duke was on his knees, large, clawed hands grasping at his wounds, trying to stop the bleeding but only getting further blood everywhere. His cries were no longer human, they were brutal, animalistic. He was in a panic with the pain gripping his body and it was apparent.

“Roh’Dhog!” Jamison staggered to approach him, sand and water clinging to his clothing. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here!”

His answer was a wolf snarling. The white fur of the wolf was dripping with black blood, his burning white eyes felt as though they could burn a hole through his very soul as it looked at him, lips up, gums and teeth bared. And the boars tusks glittered in the moonlight as black sludge dripped from its gaping, open mouth. Was the jaw broken? It seemed incapable of closing it. 

“It’s me,” Jamison said as he stepped closer again. “They’re gone, just you ‘n me now, it’s going to be alright we’ll fix you up I know we will,” he kept walking, regardless of the blood, the stench, the possible danger. Just how huge the Duke was in this form, sometimes he forgot. He was colossal. A monster. A literal demon. If he so wanted to, with a swat of his hand he could quite easily break his body and send him flying. But the fear of such a prospect didn’t even enter his mind as he approached, reaching out with both hands to touch the other. “I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He embraced him, this monstrous, massive demon with the same tenderness one would expect of one lover to another. Hiding his face against the others chest, he could almost feel time around them stopping. There was no outsider threat. No demons. No God. No angels. Just the two of them. It felt as if the Duke felt it too, as his thrashing, his growling, all of it seemed to melt to nothing. Either it was his injuries finally causing him paralysis out of pain, or something else, he didn’t know.

A sudden burst of power snapped them out of it, and as Jamison turned around, ready to fight again the Duke began to slump down onto the ground. However, instead of meeting further resistance, he saw a familiar face.

Zarya; bathed in a glow that only an Angel of Heaven above could be bathed in was hovering above the sea with a radiance that could blind him. Even the rain seemed incapable of touching her, the billowing gown she wore dry as ever despite how soaking wet Jamison and the Duke were. There she stood, looking over the two in silence before moving forward at last, landing onto the sand. Instantly her clothing, her hair, was wet. The glow gone. 

“What happened?” she asked, looking from Jamison to the Duke, and back again.

“W-we were on a mission then these two guys out of nowhere they shot him, I don’t know what with--”

Zarya hurried around him to the Duke, the pool of blood around him seeping into the sand deeper, and deeper. She touched the horse head, the worst of the three, before moving onto to look at the others. “These were bullets of Holy power. Blessed silver. Ancient scriptures written into them. To burn demons.” she looked back at Jamison, her expression grave. “To kill demons. Body, and soul.”

“They can’t do that!” Jamison was unaware of how loud his voice was. “You have to fix him!”

“I cannot.” Zarya replied, her voice strained with pain. “I cannot undo Holy work.”

“Take us to the base.” he said suddenly. “Zenyatta. Angie. They could--”

“They do not know he is a demon.” she said hastily. “They could not-”

“I CAN’T LET HIM DIE.” 

She saw the pain in his face. She felt it too; this damage, if it wasn’t fixed soon there could be ramifications neither could fix. She could put the trust she had in the hands of a human and an omnic, couldn’t she? They could see him for who he was, a good man, despite his awful situation. After all, they had an Angel among them. And a vampire. A demon should be able to be aided too. “This will be over soon,” she said softly to the ailing demon. “I am taking you to the base.”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, something told him it was a bad idea. But he lacked capacity to speak. His agony was overwhelming. That warning, it had been burned into the wall for a split second but Jamison, he hadn’t seen. Nobody had. He grunted, groaning as he tried to force his body into his human form but the agony was too much, all but gripping him in throngs of pain making the shift impossible.

Zarya lifted her hand, pressing it to his chest, as the other took hold of Jamison’s hand. “I will transport us as close to the base as possible. As you know, I can not move right inside.”

The Duke tried to speak, but his voice was mute. His eyes locked with Jamison, trying to mentally bridge a gap between them, but their minds were not one like this. No matter how badly he wanted to be. Lifting a hand, he reached towards his soulmate, his better half, but in that second there was a blinding flash of pink light and the world fell into more light.

New Delhi was beautiful, and sunny as it always was. The sky was clear, with only a few single strands of clouds stretching out across the sky. It was, to put it lightly, beautiful. In the distance was the sounds of the city, busy and filled with life as it always was. In the heart of it was the bureau, hidden as always as a single building despite the many, many layers beneath. And in its backyard, three beings suddenly appeared. One, a bloodied, multi headed demon, while the others looked human enough. Jamison rushed to the Duke’s side, trying to help him up but found his weight immense. He could not lift him.

Zarya helped, of course. He was like a baby to her, she used to carry his soul within her once upon a time and felt lighter for losing it. Him, and Jamison both. But in silence she helped him, around the inner wall, and began to make her way inside but they didn’t even reach the reception desk before the whole world seemed to fall apart.

The walls suddenly collapsed. 

There felt as though there was an eruption from below them.

The ceiling burst open as though a bomb had detonated.

Zarya activated some kind of shielding around her, and the two nearest her and Jamison saw crumbling concrete land atop him yet do no injury. The shielding kept him safe but he didn’t understand it, panic grabbing his chest but he felt that chest all but burst open when a monster appeared from the darkness of the eruption. Smoke was billowing, making the sky thick with thick black smoke, so it almost hid its arrival entirely but Jamison saw it.

A hulking, massive skeleton with antlers. The ‘meat’ of its body made of what looked like, to him, a night sky. Its jaw was hung open yet no sound emerged but there it was, as the screams of world began to finally break through the barrier it attacked. Not him, not Zarya, but the Duke.

He spun, trying to interrupt the attack but he stood no chance to as the monsters large, grabbing hand wrapped itself around the Duke as if he were a squeaky toy. That’s how big he was. The Duke screamed in a panic as he was lifted off of the ground like a weightless child. 

In a rush, Jamison remembered his name. The Duke had explained him in the story. Their history. The one who had burned with them that day. 

The Fallen Angel of Stars. 

Kokabiel.

And he had the Duke.

One second they were there, his hulking, massive, skeletal body looming over the destruction that Jamison hadn’t even properly registered yet, his eyes locked on the Duke being held tightly in the others hand. And before his eyes, in a split second, they were gone. Nothing showy, no flashing, no melting, they were just gone. The smoke seemed to remember to do its job, and began to suffocate and smother the area. Across the ground shards of glass and broken slabs of concrete were scattered everywhere. Screams of panic from within the base filled the air, sirens blared, the whole world seemed to be on fire but Jamison did not know or care to look.

The Duke was gone.

_To be continued_


	17. Journey of One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world seems to be crumbling all around Jamison; the Duke is taken, the organisation destroyed, everything in disarray. When he finally reaches his breaking point, someone else takes the reigns. Someone who, hopefully, has his plan all worked out.

The ripple effect of the destruction was catastrophic. Cracks in the foundation spider webbed downwards through the ground, rupturing pipes, concrete, and other structures that set off what sounded like a million alarms. Hallways, riddled with cracks and ruptures in the ground, were bathed in the flashing colours of red as the alarms sounded. The damages to the structure, and the staff, were monumental. Panic wasn’t warranted here but the people caught in the crossfire of the sudden, demonic eruption couldn’t be helped. Friends and colleagues were trapped, some all out killed in the rupture and of course help was coming to those who needed it first.

Jamison was fairly sure there were screams going on around him by this point. The air was thick with smoke, vehicles with flashing lights had pulled up and he’d been pulled from the eruption. The rest of the world would no doubt find out about the organisation now, unless strings were pulled behind the curtains but he didn’t care about drapes or ropes right now. 

He didn’t care about any of it. 

He felt as if the very world had been shattered by the appearance of a monster from his furthest memory, a time when he wasn’t himself but something far greater. And that thing had grabbed the Duke like he was a squeeze toy and he couldn’t do anything. He was gone, just vanished and what could he do? What on earth could he do now, right now?

“Are you hurt?” he heard Zarya, her voice finally cracking through the high pitched scream of panic. “Jamison. Are you alright?”

Her large hands found him and like a doll she easily got him to his feet, moving him away from the site as quickly as she could. Of course he was weightless in her arms, like picking up nothing but an empty jar because that’s how he felt. So utterly gutted and empty that if he hit the ground at any sort of force he would shatter into a thousand pieces. 

“Can you hear me?” she asked.

Words weren’t working. His throat felt as if it were on fire and welded shut but he manages a nod of his head for her, his eyes managing to lift themselves to finally look at her. She sees the haunted look in his eyes and she nods. “I know. I know, I have felt this. But you are safe, he would be thankful of that most now. Here, sit. Wait.”

And with that she was away, rushing back towards the destruction and all but leaped down into the crater left behind, no doubt to help find survivors and get them to safety. He knew there’d be people hurt, people dying, or already dead but he couldn’t focus on any of it. His soul felt as if it had been torn in half and surely he had tears running down his face by now. Body trembling he looks down at his hands, his exposed skin bruised and bleeding, yet his right hand is totally untouched. It seemed to gleam with reflected flames, a burning anger he could taste licking away at his insides.

It was consuming him and he didn’t know what to do with it. There was no outlet. He couldn’t do anything just like when that monster had snatched up the Duke, and still he was a weak, pitiful thing. He lifted his hands and grasped at his forehead, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his temples and still his tears fell faster over his dirty cheeks. The saltiness of his tears could easily mix with blood if his nails dug any deeper but his orange eyes suddenly widened with a realization. 

A second later Jamison was moving, rushing towards the crumbling floor that gave way down into the destroyed organisation. He slid down, kicking up more dust and dirt, almost tripping as he jumped from one floor down to another and didn’t stop. There was someone down here he had to find, and he knew she wouldn’t just bend over and die in such a stupid, childish way. Sombra was around here somewhere, he knew it, and he could almost smell her. She always smelt of the same perfume, and somehow, now, it stood out wildly. Almost as if his nose wasn’t his own, but something far more powerful, and built to hunt.

It led him all the way down past several floors, mind so readily focused he ignored everything else he came upon. Even when he swore he heard the snarl of a woof and rapid gunfire, he kept going. That wasn’t his business, none of it was. He had to find the Duke and only one person on this planet he knew of could tell him where he’d been snatched. As well as how to get to him.

He was almost at the very base, where Satya was known to be set up, when he finally got the strongest whiff of her scent. Jamison moved through the crumbling hallways, not even hesitating when the ceiling above him gave a dangerous warning of cracking foundation, or dust settling from above. He moved along down the twisting halls until he reached the door where the strongest smell wafted from, grabbing the handle he slid the door aside and ignored how the ground trembled.

Within the room, a lot of the ceiling had collapsed. It had been a computer lab, he hadn’t visited it himself before but he saw rows of computers. Most of them smashed beneath the crumbled ceiling; and among them was the woman in purple and darkened skin. She didn’t look entirely human, after all she wasn’t. Not really. She’d never been. Her whole body was transparent, thick rows of purple flickering against her skin and her eyes, four now, glowed as she lifted her head and looked at the one at the door.

Sombra opened her mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth, and hissed. 

“He took him.” Jamison said abruptly. “He’s gone.”

“I warned him.” Sombra smirked, throwing her head backwards. “I told him to not come back. Now he’s gone. A shame. He’s one of the rare good ones.”

“Where is he?” he moved towards her, his right hand forming a tightened fist as he did. “Where did he take him?”

“Where do you think?” she asked. “Honestly, you think I’m going to dish out all my information to you, now that he’s gone? That’s--”

The blackened hand reached out and she could almost feel the burning, holy light and it made her hiss louder than before and she leapt backwards, slamming her back against the crumbling ceiling. She knew a threat when she saw it, and she could sense this boy wasn’t kidding around. The anger within him, she could all but see the fire burning all around him with a holy might that would smite her the second it touched her. He wasn’t to be toyed with right now, and she knew when to press buttons to get what she wanted. And he had nothing to offer.

“Think back, priest.” she replied, calmer. “He is a Duke, yes. But a Duke of what?”

Jamison paused for a moment. “...the sixth circle of Hell, in the house of the fallen Kokabiel.”

“There’s your answer.”

He’d been taken back to Hell, in particular the sixth circle and the very house of the demon who’d just erupted from the ground and snatched him up as if he were a toy. The flames that had been engulfing him, in her eyes, immediately snuffed out. 

“And now that this place has gone to Hell, haha,” she snorted, “I’m off.”

“One more question.” Jamison said, finding his voice despite his shock. 

“Fine, you get one.”

“How do I get into Hell?”

She blinked her eyes several times. “You want to get into Hell? Why would you want that?”

“He’s been looking for me for a thousand years. Now it’s my turn to find him. And I need to get there; you demons can get to the surface, so tell me. How do I get there?” he asked, “Please tell me.”

“It’s different for each of us. There’s no one giant gate we all go through.” Somba replied, slowly lowering herself from the ceiling at last, carefully planting her translucent feet upon the crumbling ground. “For him? ...I imagine he uses the same place he first fell. It’s the strongest anchor he has, beyond you. Tch.” she sneered, “It’s so romantic. Bleh.”

Where he fell. Jamison had no idea where he had fallen; somewhere in England that’s all he knew. No concrete place at all; his mind was buzzing it was a hive of emotions and thoughts all of them smashing, and crashing into one another in a blaze of anger, frustration, and genuine fear. It washed over him like an ocean wave and he felt the weight crushing down upon him. Had the Duke felt this, as well, all those years ago? Losing a part of himself and not knowing how to find him again? It was horrible. His whole soul felt twisted, and wretched, but most of all alone.

“...good luck, priest.”

Those were the last words she said to him; for when he finally lifted his gaze he saw the woman was gone. The demon had faded to nothing, gone from sight but never out of mind. Where had she shed her shell? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. He’d never felt this alone in all his life, his memories far scattered of a time when he’d had a family, his parents names and faces were lost, and the closest he’d had to those people were gone as well now. The Duke, that missing piece of him, the one he truly loved more than anyone else in all existence was lost to him and he did not know if he would find just how to get to him. 

It’s at this moment, as the ceiling above him that was already weakened from the destruction began to crumble more. Water could even be heard rushing among the debris, burst pipes spilling their contents and adding further danger to the situation than before. The sound of an oncoming cave in began to drown everything else out and for the first time since that horrific monstrocity had erupted from the earth itself, Jamison suddenly thought of his own life. Panic was just beginning to click into position until, at least it feels like, two hands suddenly gripped both of his shoulders in a powerful grip and a voice hissed up from the very depths of his being

“My turn now.”

The ceiling finally began to cave in, crumbling and breaking all around him but it was as if time itself had suddenly come to a complete and utter halt. Jamison couldn’t even scream as he felt as if his whole body was suddenly on fire and he began to fall forward, destined to slam into the ground and be buried alive under the weight of the crumbling ceiling. But instead, the clothing on his body erupted into flames leaving only the beads he always wore snagged around his neck which was growing thicker, accompanied by muscles rippling up and stretching his skin.

It tore along his neck but instead of blood thick brown, messy fur erupted. The fur continued to travel up his ripping, peeling skin until it over took his entire face. As the skin broke away, or got burnt up entirely, new flesh took place. His ears positioned themselves upwards, large and round with thick brownish black fur. His mouth grew longer, teeth got larger, longer and sharper as his nose was replaced with big, black, rubbery nose.

All while his skin was ripping and tearing, making way for a face that was better suited to a scavenger roaming the plains of Africa, his spine seemed to bunch in on itself before unfolding itself, forcing two big, black, great wings out from the small of his spine. They, like the fur that now smothered his neck and face, were rumpled and just looked plain dirty. Black as night and darker still they stretched out awkwardly at the confined space they found themselves, bending inwards to accomodate for the cramped space. His spine continued to push however, growing out from where the wings had erupted from and grew longer, and longer, ending in a snake head. The skin melted into black, tight scales and only ended once they found where his body begun. 

The most bizarre thing, out of all of these bizarre events taking place, was his right leg. His prosthetic leg which had treated him well for several years was being pushed downwards, and clattered onto the ground having been removed. Bones erupted from the stump of his leg, the kneecap formed and the leg continued to grow downwards but instead of just flesh growing over the forming muscles and fat, it was thick brown fur and his foot ended in a hoof. The fur continued to grow all the way over to his other leg and ended on his foot, reforming itself into a hoof. 

Gravity finally seemed to catch up to him, as did time itself, as he fell forward and landed on the ground. Fire ignited along the mane of the hyenas head and when he lifted it, ears now up and alert, the eyes blazed with a conscience that was not Jamison. No, this wasn’t him.

J’nkrhatt grinned wildly.

And seconds later, the crumbling ceiling was pierced through as the slender, rough looking fallen angel burst outwards. His high pitched laughter filled the air as he jumped from floor to floor, climbing higher and higher dashing past survivors. It was exhilarating, that’s what it was. After a thousand years of living in nothing but blackness, to suddenly feel it was like a euphoria going off over his entire body. He half flew, half climbed up through the crumbling, destroyed base and was going full on ahead until he spotted someone among the wreckage. A plump, dark haired, Chinese woman who he instantly recognized.

Mei, however, did not recognize him at all. She stepped back in alarm at first at seeing a literal, well, demon climb out from the bottom floors of the base but her shock and confusion turned to anger. They’d just been attacked; she wasn’t sure just what it had been but now there was this demon who was clearly guilty. Without a seconds thought the vampire rushed at him, her eyes turning into a striking, sharp red as her teeth showed their sharp, aggressive nature. 

“Mei!” J’nkrhatt greeted her, opening his arms to catch her, acting as if she was running to him to embrace him.

His reaction shocked her and she stopped, almost tripping over herself, and came to a halt. “That voice.” she knew it, maybe? It sounded like Jamison but different in tone. Higher pitched, and sounded far more excitable. “Jamison?”

“Close!” he closed the space between them and circled around her, his snake headed tail seemingly looking her over as he did. “I’m J’nkrhatt. You know the story, right? How we was split in two and you get both me, ‘n our oh so lovely Duke out of the split?”

“I do,” she drew away from him when he got too close but attempted to hide her discomfort with an expression of distaste.

“Oh good! You know! Right, well!” he grabbed her shoulder in his blackened hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m off to find my Duke ‘n get him back!”

“How?” Mei asked, “What? What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, Duke got himself kidnapped by Kokabiel that’s what all this is about,” he gestured vaguely to the destruction all around them. “So I’m gonna go get him back. Let Zarya know I’m fine, yeah? Figure she’ll be worryin’ her lil’ head in if she didn’t know. Yeah? Yeah.” he then squeezed both her cheeks at once, opened his wings out as far as they could possibly go, and shot upwards. She watched him go, though the force of his sudden flight almost knocked her clear off her feet. 

The rush of the wind against his exposed skin and fur, the feeling of finally stretching out his wings to fee the current beneath them as he finally burst out of the gaping hole and shot upwards into the sky.

The sun’s heat blasted over him as he finally spread his wings as far as they could go, and his head turned from left to right, trying to get a bearings for just where he was. The smouldering remains and a gaping hole in the ground did indeed look a sight from up here, and when he scanned the area further he remembered where they were. Those awkward looking, long black wings opened up and he flapped them, shooting him across the city at a speed faster than the human eye could see. 

Everything was coming at him so fast, how the ground far beneath him was little more than a blur of colours and motions. The feeling of the wind rushing through his fur, filtering through his messy wings, and his warm skin remained just as warm as he normally felt despite the sharpness of the wind that struck his bare skin. Regardless how exciting it was right now, flying towards a country that he had the vague idea of where its location was, he came to an immediate stop and hovered mid air as he saw something churning on the horizon.

A storm. The clouds were grey and sprinkled with bolts of lightning travelling from one cloud to another. His eyes widened with a glee few could put words to, and he angled himself just right so he could fly right at it; his wild, hysterical laughter mixing with the approaching sounds of the storm. Rumbles and crackles in the sky met the laughter as he threw himself head first into the clouds, giggling as the lightning tickled along his body before he shot downwards towards the ground. Exiting the clouds, he felt the rain as it splashed against both skin, fur and feather. 

He’d never felt it before. The feeling of cold rain hitting him, it was so foreign and new and fantastic all boiled up into one. J’nkrhatt had heard the rain, numerous times had he heard a storm and the wailing wind, and the splashing of rain upon the world just beyond his grasp. To finally experience the rain absolutely soaking his body was such a new, world shaking experience he almost started crying. He forced his tears back however, gritting his teeth as he flew out from beneath the streaming shower of water and kept going through the skies without hesitation, or stop. He had a purpose, a reason, and a location to go. Even if he had only witnessed it for the briefest of moments, he remembered where it had all gone to Hell. The memory of his, technically, birth was seared into his mind. It was nothing but agony, pain that stung at his body, mind and soul even today.

This drive is what had him flying away from any, and everyone he knew and cared about. He knew at the back of his mind that Zarya could most easily catch up with him. She could body slam him into the ground quite easily and he’d offer little to no retaliation for it’d be useless. Of course, she wouldn’t really. He knew she wouldn’t; she loved him too much to actually bring harm to him and she’d never forgive herself if she’d ever do it. And boy, when angels can’t forgive themselves, that stuff rots them from the inside out.

J’nkrhatt felt the weather shift around him, a bitter cold sweep and surround him, enveloping him in a cold embrace he hadn’t truly felt before. He loved it.

It felt as if the beacon was calling to him louder still the closer he got to it. A thousand years ago, maybe this very area, he had been one with the Duke. They had been stupid and foolish, drawn into an act by somebody they thought to be their friend and ultimately betrayed. Torn apart, discarded, hooked up to a soul he couldn’t escape until now. So far, this experience of the world he’d been robbed of for so long, he liked it. The build up to this was awful, of course, the inability to be with his Duke. To be one with him as they were meant to be hurt him so deeply; and he too felt the heartache and the anger at having lost him like this.

Land met his hoofed feet as he landed suddenly, the force of his landing causing nearby trees to bend over, much like how Mei had almost been blown over by his take off. 

Farm land surrounded him; it was almost surprising to see it hadn’t been swallowed up by industrial living of humans. Turning his head this way and that, ears swivelling curiously, he could pick up the scent of farm animals. Cows. Sheep. Pigs. J’nkrhatt lowered himself down to the ground on all fours, nose sniffing aggressively against the ground while his snake tail did more or less the same thing, however it flicked its tail out rapidly to get a different kind of scent.

He moved across the fields, jumping a few fences until he finally reached the spot. 

To think a thousand years ago God themself stood in this field, flanked by angels, while two more were torn downwards into Hell. It was strange to imagine it, honestly. But it was true, it was his story, and had it not been for all of that, where would he be? Probably still in Heaven. Or Hell if he’d been made into a fallen as well. It was hard to think of the what-if’s, especially if you’d been sealed away for a thousand years.

Dropping down onto his knees he felt the ground, reaching out with both hands as he tried to feel for the exact location where the Duke had first been drawn to Hell. It was hard, since this was the area and his soul was telling him as such but beyond that he didn’t know the exact location. Was it necessary? He had no flipping clue. There was no record of an angel, or even a fallen angel like himself, trying to get into Hell. Angels just didn’t do that, for one they couldn’t enter Hell at all. But by being fallen, did that mean he could do it? He didn’t even know that.

“Right, no big deal,” he said aloud to himself. “Just gonna break into Hell. First fallen Angel to do it. Gonna get Roh’Dhog back, become one again’, kick Kokabiel’s ASS and then bust outta Hell. Easy! Now if only I could find this bloody...”

It wasn’t coming fast enough so that grew his frustrations all but instantly. He was wasting precious time, he had no idea what was happening to Roh’Dhog and he was, at heart, terrified. The terror travelled through him and he groaned in frustrations as he now pushed his hands into the ground, feeling the brown dirt between his fingers as he felt through it now desperately. And what this must look like to an outsider right now, a man with a hyenas head, black wings, and a snake for a tail desperately seeking through the grass as if he’d lost a contact.

That’s when his hands finally hit something; the soil wasn’t brown here. It was black. And touching it made a sudden spark erupt from his right hand and connect with the ground. J’nkrhatt’s ears lifted as he allowed his hand to glow white hot for a split second, and immediately burned away the grass that had grown over the blackened ground. It was huge, large, almost the same size as Roh’Dhog but far larger. Of course it’d have to be. Tail swaying he circled the section of ground, his hands digging up a bit more of the dirt and soon he’d dug up the entire section of land until he’d hit hard, rock bottom. He couldn’t dig any deeper.

So now what? He couldn’t literally dig into Hell, that was impossible as Hell wasn’t below the surface of the Earth much like how Heaven wasn’t in the clouds above. He sat back on his behind for a moment, in the deep hole he’d dug himself in the English countryside, and pressed his hands against his face. Self doubt was not a thing he felt, no matter how bad a situation it felt like. This was the truth. But now he was just lost. What did he go from here? Try to dig through hard rock? Break and reform his fingers again and again hoping something would stick?

“You’ve brought him a long way.”

The voice startles J’nkrhatt into standing up in alarm, feathers ruffling even more so than usual. The voice is immediately familiar.

“Death can’t stop you, can he?” he asks in the darkness, a toothy grin accompanying his words as a white orb seems to pop into existence and slowly circle him. He watches it, closely. “You been followin’ me, have ya?”

“I couldn’t leave him like that.” Mother Fawkes voice replied, her voice echoing and bouncing around the hole the two were in. “I’ve been with him as much as you have. Not as attune, however... I am not you, after all.”

“No one’s like me.” J’nkrhatt replied with an air of proud smugness.

“That is true. You’re trying to find your soul mate. Jamison’s soul mate.”

“He is me.” he pointed out, voice dropping to a softer tone than his usual brash, loud tone. “And I’m him. We’re one in the same but we’re two different things. Mind bogglin’, ain’t it?” he asks with yet another toothy grin.

“You are a gift.” Mother Fawkes gave a small chortle, a familiar sound to both Jamison and J’nkrhatt at the same time. While J’nkrhatt had never met her, he had heard her, and he’d been quite fond of her. Hence his very violent reaction when she’d been murdered, and why he had gone into defensive overdrive to protect Jamison from the fallout. “You need to use your gift to get where you both need to be now. You need to believe in yourself. Yourselves.”

“You know how much the other guy thinks of himself, right?” J’nkrhatt asked. “Don’t know how he ever figured out who he is in the first place. He did it though, yeah?”

“And I am forever proud of him. For being who he is. Who you’re both destined to be. You will find your way. Remember,” her voice was starting to fade on him now. “Believe in yourselves.”

With that she was gone.

J’nkrhatt lifted a hand to wipe a tear away from one of his eyes before stopping, and looked at his right hand. He turned it over a few times, looking at the shining skin that glowed in that red, goldish, black way it did. Then, his eyes travelled to look down at the ground beneath him. Getting to his feet suddenly, J’nkrhatt realized what might work. He had the power of the Angels still in his grasp, he still glowed with the Holy Powers that Be and that’s what had protected Jamison that first night and what had been radiating from him ever since. It’s what clashed so violently with Roh’Dhog’s stance, why they couldn’t be who they were truly meant to be.

So he channelled that power. All of the power that he felt, both his own, and Jamison’s. Their adoration and love for Duke Roh’Dhog and what it meant to save him not just for them, but him. Who they were, who they could be, what they will most certainly be one day if the universe worked itself out and bent to what they wanted, and desperately needed.

The light radiating off of his arm was blindingly bright. Even if it was the middle of the day, even the sun seemed to shy away when compared to how bright it was. Animals in the area were fleeing it, scared to be near it much less look upon it for risk of being turned blind at the sight of the light. It burned hot, its strength rung true, and finally J’nkrhatt... for lack of a better term... detonated it. 

The world fell away, and the darkness that followed the sudden eruption of light quite literally knocked him out. 

_To be continued_


	18. Rescue Efforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrival in Hell isn't all that it's cracked up to be, when J'nkrhatt literally breaks in...

The storm was raging, bitterly cold wind stung at any exposed flesh, and caused clothing to ruffle with an intensity that seemed as though they were about ready to rip free and take flight with the rushing wind. Dark grey and black clouds rushed through the sky with purpose, grumbling and rumbling with every movement they made through the black skies. Snow upon the ground reflected light, illuminating the darkness as a figure slipped and sped along a rocky mountain side, a gleam of a metallic arm glinting in the dark as it scrabbled to gain footing. This was not the kind of day to be out and about, but he had no choice.

His attempts were futile since, finally, his footing lost all ground it possibly could on the slippery mountain and he began to slide. He shouted in alarm before slamming a mouth over his hand; he didn’t want to be caught out. If they found him, he’d be in for a world of hurt he didn’t want. So he’d bear the physical pain as he hit rocks on the way down, until he finally came to a landing on a fairly flat section of the mountain. Groaning in pain he held his side for a moment, waiting for the pain to pass.

He grabbed the hat off of his head and tugged it off with his free hand, inspecting it for damage. Besides being a bit soggy, as was the rest of him, it was unscathed. Hair now wet, he lifts the hat and sets it upon his head before tugging his poncho closer around himself in an attempts to keep himself warm in clear defiance of the weather. It wasn’t working; even his unusually high body heat wasn’t protecting him from this cold. And if he stuck around too long, he may well freeze in place.

So, despite it all, he forced himself onto his feet and walked to the edge of the ledge, looked down at just how much further he had to go before reaching the base of the mountain. About another hour or so, if he kept going at the pace he was. Breathing an exhale of annoyance, he tugs his hat down harder onto his head, and begins to climb down once more. Oh if only he had wings. If only he’d been born with a beautiful pair of wings that would carry him away from this trouble he’d gotten himself into.

He was almost safe on solid, not so slippery, ground when a bolt of power struck the rock he’d been grappling with. A shout of alarm at the noise, and sudden pain, had him tumbling down the rest of the way and landed painfully on his back. Oh, that’ll take a little while to heal, so not only was the wind knocked out of him but he was prone as well.

“Finally caught ya,” snarled a multi-mouthed creature as it hovered above him. “Where’s your pretty pony, McCree? Scattered, has it?”

“Y’all oughta know,” McCree coughed as his six eyelids peeled back to reveal black, iris-less eyes. “You’re the one who scattered it into a million pieces a few miles back.”

A black claw was underneath his jaw a second later, dragging itself along his jagged, scruffy side burn. “Don’t get clever. It doesn’t suit you.” it hissed, a dangerous warning as it allowed a claw to dig just too deep ‘accidentally’ so a trickle of black blood seeped down the exposed skin before dripping onto the blood red poncho.

“Aw c’mon now, I reckon I’m a pretty smart fella.”

“Why’s that?” it hissed.

“Kept ya talkin’ as I was chargin’.”

His eyes suddenly clicked from black to a brilliant, almost blinding red that seemed to envelope his entire being. The poncho, soaking wet in the falling rain, billowed and began to blow backwards but whatever it was that was about to transpire failed to do so, as the creature struck first, a heavy fist connecting with the man’s head. His hat was toppled from his head and he fell backwards, groaning in pain as his eyes flicked from red to black once more. McCree landed in the snow, his humanesque appearance beginning to flicker, as if he was dropping it but it refused to do so. 

Just as he was beginning to lose what consciousness he had left, the source of his demise surely falling upon him, McCree witnessed an almighty explosion that filled the sky with a brilliant white he’d never witnessed. It jolted him awake, almost blinded him, and as he brought his arms up to protect his multiple eyes his assailant stopped its attack to turn and stare at the source of the flash. So powerful was the sudden eruption that the clouds had been blown away by the sheer force of it, scattering the winds, and rain, to the four corners.

What fell from the explosion was a man with long, black, ruffled wings that appeared limp and in no way trying to properly carry the body they were meant to keep afloat. A hyena head that seemed to be perpetually on fire allowed the wind to knock it left and right as its body dropped like a stone. It slammed into the snow, again with such a force that sent a flurry of snowflakes into the air that spun in circles. Bent, broken wings were splayed out, and a twisted broken looking body had left quite an imprint in the snow.

Landing on the snow, not far from it, the inquisitor sniffed a long, slanted nose as it drew closer. He’d never seen something like this before; and it couldn’t be a new arrival, normally the Lords seemed to just know when someone was about to appear and have someone materialize here to greet them. Here, this broken, twisted stranger was alone. 

Reaching out cautiously with a clawed hand, he gripped the hyena head, basking in the fire that seemed to consume the ever growing, and burning, fur atop its head as it ran down its neck until it vanished and was smothered by flesh. His skin was pale as the snow he’d landed in, his spine curved and twisted which ended in a very long, black, thin tail that vanished into the disrupted snow. Those arms looked awful broken too; this landing had not been kind and he hoped the poor bastards healing factor would kick in soon or he’d just freeze solid out here.

“Whatever,” he sneered as he turned back to the true source of his pursuit. McCree was still stunned, his expression said that much. Unable to help himself, he began to cackle as he raised his four arms, readying an attack that would surely knock out the hapless prey but the chance never came. Not when a hand suddenly came tearing through his torso; the paleness of the arm glistened even brighter still with the black blood that smothered it. The hand righted itself and the hand slammed upwards and over his face, the contact burned, and McCree could only watch in stunned horror as his pursuers very face detonated in a sudden eruption that seemed to come from within his very face.

There was no recovery from that. Not as his body fell limp to the white snow, stained with his black blood, and it almost looked beautiful as those snowflakes continued to spin and swirl as they’d been caught up in the wind of such sudden, rash movements of the stranger. Who despite looking fairly broken and bent in some places, was stood there with glowing white eyes that felt as if McCree was staring directly into the sun. Which was something to be admired, as he’d never seen the sun in his life.

The stranger stood there, arm now emanating a rush of steam that circled upwards to mix with the smoke that billowed from his burning fur. Unblinking, unmoving... was he even alive? McCree slowly, carefully got to his feet and raised a hand in a sign of surrender; he didn’t want to get blown up. “Easy pardner, easy!” he called out, carefully. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, boy I tell ya you just ‘bout saved my bacon there! Feels like lady luck finally smiled on ole’ McCree out here!” he kept talking as he closed the distance, but it was only once he got so close he could see just how dirty and messy the hyenas fur was did he realize this man was out cold.

So he’d awakened, attacked the first thing he saw, but then passed out. Was it from the pain? The cold? Reaching out with his bare hand, McCree discovered this guy was freezing. Tearing his poncho off of his shoulders he quickly wrapped it around the unconscious stranger and pulled him into his arms, carrying him away from the crumpled body that was slowly being enveloped by the snow which always seemed to hide the sins of the fallen.

Now, many thoughts and doubts spun themselves comfortable webs in McCree’s mind as he carried this stranger. Who was he? Where had he come from? Why was he naked? What was his reason for being here? What if he attacked him, next? He could be little else than a complete and utter rabid demon. Without pride, thought, nor reason. Driven mad from being here too long and was just seeking destruction and death. This could be dangerous, he should just dump him in the cold and leave him to freeze. He should. Really, he should. So why wasn’t he dropping him, and running? That wasn’t the only one after him, he’d done a lot in his life to piss off a lot of very important demons after all. 

Aw Heaven. What a mess.

~*~

“This rescue effort is going to cost us.” Satya grimaced as she wiped some blood from a cut above one of her eyes. She didn’t appreciate the blood getting into her eye at all. It was highly unethical and filthy. It was a welcome thing to distract her from the sheer Hell which had befallen her organisation. To think, it had remained hidden for generations and it has to be under her watch that it is not only destroyed, but revealed to the world.

It also distracted her from the greatest concern that had her heart racing within her chest, about fit to burst out. She forced herself to her feet, having lost a heel in the initial disruption of the incident she’d removed her other one. It made walking through the rubble more troubling, but walking barefoot on filthy floors were a bitter reminder of where her life had begun. She hadn’t gotten her first pair of proper shoes until she had been nine years old. This was like getting back on a very familiar bicycle. She had pressing matters to attend, and the fools above hadn’t even found her yet.

She made her way, very carefully, through crumbling walls and walking over floors covered in rubble. The blood she found alerted her to the very concrete evidence that people were dead. Satya had no idea how many, but she was already schemating a memorial that would be erected in the next location of her organisation. This may be a lost battle but it wasn’t a lost war; they will rebuild, they will remember their fallen, and work harder in their honor.

Climbing her way up carefully, she was making good headway until she heard a noise that had her throat close up. Growling; from a floor up? She thinks it is. The echoing here makes it hard to tell exactly where it is but she climbs faster, and once on mostly solid ground she checks her forearm; the white and blue gauntlet was still in one piece. Now, Satya was a woman who had always been in control of her emotions. She saw no point in panic, or tears, or weaknesses like that but the next sound she heard gave her the first, genuine rush of fear and genuine fear she’d felt in years.

People talking, and the sudden sound of gunfire. Were they agents? Or people from above? Policemen? She didn’t know and she was utterly terrified and that had her feet moving faster across the ground, ignoring the stabs of pain that would shoot up her feet with every other step. Grunting, she flinched for the first time thus far as she scrambles to round a corner of a corridor she had walked down countless times. So much so, she could name each hall even if her eyes were shut as she knew these hallowed halls almost better than she knew herself.

“I dunno man I just saw a flash of fur--what the Hell was that thing?”

“Were they keeping wild animals down here?” 

The voices of the men came closer, and became clearer, with each step she took towards their direction. Finally she gripped a wall to steady herself and she rounded the corner to see two young men. Relief washed over her as she saw them wearing the security wear of those employed here; thank heavens they weren’t the police. Sensing movement the two turned, weapons raised but the second they saw who it was those guns were lowered and one rushed over towards her.

“Lady Vaswani!” he gasped, “You’re alive oh praise Shiva!”

“Praise Shiva later,” she said. “Report. What happened?” it’s not like she had almost died in a collapsing building, of course not.

“Details still sketchy ma’am.” the young man replied. “There was a sudden eruption from below but that’s all we know. Body count, survivors, it’s still unreported.”

She swore under her breath. Eruption from below? A gas leak couldn’t do this. Something else, or maybe even someone else had done this. Damn it, they have a literal Angel of the Christian God working here and this still happened. How many of her people were now dead?

“Lady Vaswani!!”

What happened next took place in mere seconds. That growling she’d heard was back, and coming from immediately behind her; something had clearly followed her. But she didn’t have to wonder what it was. The young men were lifting their weapons, aiming away from her to the creature behind her. To them, the towering, hulking mess of sharp teeth, sharper eyes, and black matted fur was nothing short of a threat. Mouth open, teeth glistening, and drool dripping from its open gaping maw the monster was nothing short of a nightmare brought to life. Just as the guns were raised, and triggers were being pulled, Satya did a gesture with one of her hands and using that hard light technology that she had created and perfected, a shield erupted in front of her and hovered in mid air as it absorbed the bullets, the hot bits of metal being lodged in the hard light and losing any and all monumentum.

“Cease fire!” she shouted; quite possibly the first time anyone in years had heard Satya shout in such a tone of voice.

They were clearly confused. Why had she protected this monster? But as many questions buzzed through their minds like angry wasps, the drooling monster dropped down to its knees, the large ears on its head lowering themselves as Satya turned to face it. She held a hand out towards it, and the creature ventured closer slowly, the large, black wet nose sniffing at her hand before it pushed its head into her hand. Satya pressed her hand desperately close against the matted, filthy fur and ran a hand up to one of those ears, giving it a stroke. “You are safe. You had me worried.” she spoke softly. “Just focus on me; do not allow distractions. The moon has waned. You are safe.”

The werewolf, for that’s what it surely was, gave a very low soft whine.

“Lady Vaswani...?”

Satya turned her head to look over her shoulder at the two men. “One of you, go and search for more survivors. The other one, stay with me. Fareeha and I need to get to safety.”

The name drop had them both widen their eyes in shock. Fareeha Amari. Lady Vaswani’s partner, in more ways than one, was a monster from the darkness that they hunted. How many werewolves had been put down out in the wilds? Vicious, bloodthirsty beasts who hunted the weak and spread their disease like a thirsty mosquito carrying Malaria.Yet despite that, one of the co-runners of the entire organisation and head chief of security was one of them.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Satya said as she continued to stroke along the black werewolf’s head. “Why do I employ the services of a monster. Now is not the time. We have lives to save, and I am not losing her. Now. Do as I say.”

There was little room for argument with Satya Vaswani. You’d never win; she could most likely talk anyone out of doing anything foolish, as she was just that kind of person. And just like before, her words were obeyed. For now their main objective was survival. Retrieve the injured and get them medical help. Find and collect the dead. And at the end of it all, Satya would find out just what had happened here and who was at fault.

And where the Hell was that angel?

~*~

“You did _what_??” 

Zarya had found Mei and had praised Lord in Heaven above that she had made it out safe; but upon learning that Jamison had not only become J’nkrhatt, Roh’Dhog had been kidnapped by Kokabiel himself and caused this eruption of destruction and death, and on top of that Jamison... er... J’nkrhatt had taken off to find him and break him out of Hell itself. “You just let him leave??” she asked.

“How could I stop him?” Mei asked, frowning as Zenyatta floated on past behind them, aiding in the search and rescue while these two lovely ladies had a bit of a domestic.

“Tell him to wait! Wait for me!” Zarya said, “I could have helped-” she stopped herself, and groaned, covering her face with both her hands. “I can no longer sense him. He is gone. Gone where I can not follow him.”

“Didn’t you also tell me,” the vampire said carefully, “That angels cannot enter Hell, much less survive there?” she asked.

They’d discussed Hell before. Of course they had. Heaven, Hell, Earth and the balance all three worlds kept whilst co-existing together. Demons, twisted creatures born or turned by malice and hate, could sneak their way onto Earth much like how Angels could descend and visit Earth. But neither species could take one step in the others realm. The Grace of an angel could very well be ripped clean out of them and an angel without their Grace was as good as dead. And demons would be consumed by the pure light of God’s kingdom they would burn to death instantly. They would not even feel death; unlike an Angel lost in Hell.

Mei realized something, and spoke slowly, carefully again. “You say, J’nkrhatt is a fallen angel. Yes?” she asked.

“Da.” Zarya replied, lowering her hands, revealing the wetness of her eyes.

“Can a fallen angel survive in Hell?” she asked.

“I. I do not know.” she admitted, looking around, as if the answer would come to her. “There has never been instance of angel, much less fallen, going into Hell. Fallen is like demon, but is also like angel. Is two of the same. But I do not know--and now he has gone where I can not follow and protect him.” Zarya shook her head in frustration. “It is my job to protect! To keep him safe! I am worst Chariot! I am undeserving of rank, I must ask God to demote me and place another where I am, I-”

Mei reached up, and placed both of her cold hands onto the worrying angel’s face, turning her head downwards so they were looking at one another. Her eyes, dull brown, tinted with just a hint of red, spoke for her. To not think like that, or even consider doing such a stupid thing. Honestly, angels were such drama queens sometimes. Her cold, unblinking stare melted into a warmer, softer gaze as she lifted a hand to stroke at the pink hair. “What we have to do now, instead of panicking about the choices of a stupid idiot, is focus on the now. We have people to save. Once we’ve done that, we’ll try and work out what we can do about the two bumbling idiots.”

Zarya had to laugh, despite herself. Just how a vampire like this could find the right words for her was a mystery. She closed the space between them and wrapped her massive, strong arms around the shorter, pudgier woman and squeezed her close. “I adore you.” she whispered, “Do not ever forget that.”

“We are in public remember.” Mei whispered; having never been one to be too open with her displays of affection. Still, it almost made her feel warm.

“I do not care.” Zarya countered.

“You either care too much or not at all.” she replied softly, reaching a hand up to again stroke the woman’s strong jawline. “Crazy.”

The two soon parted ways, and the rescue mission began. Having a literal angel on your side did make the task of finding people, both dead, and alive, much easier. There were a lot of people to account for, after all, so the job was not an easy one.

Mei, however, felt the doubt nibbling at the back of her mind. Jamison, J’nkrhatt, had all but thrown themselves into the belly of the beast. Not even the Grace of Zarya could reach him now. Damn it, why didn’t she try harder to keep him here? She could have grabbed him. Try to subdue him. But she had spared with Zarya in the past, and she knew what angels were capable of. And that was with Zarya taking it easy on her; she always said she wasn’t pulling her punches but Mei was smart enough to not be fooled by such a silly lie. J’nkrhatt though; he looked fully capable of taking her down, and he wouldn’t hold back punches with her at all. 

Why would he? She hadn’t exactly given him any reason to consider her even something like a friend.

_She remembered, as she helped move survivors to the ground floor, a time the two had been left in one another’s company. A rare thing, considering how the Duke had all but been glued to the others hip. Jamison had looked so meek and pitiful sitting there, twiddling his fingers and thumbs together as he sat on a couch that made him look small in comparison._

_“You know,” Mei had spoken up as she’d brought him some tea upon request by Zarya. “I have to wonder just how you manage the things you do.”_

_“Uh?” Jamison asked._

_“You keep being given assignments and I have no idea how you pull it off, but you get through each one. How much of that work is actually you, and not the Duke?” she’d asked. “Because I have to wonder just what you’re willing to give here.”_

_“Give. Give what?”_

_“You know. For this cause. Would you be willing to give up everything? Would you die for this, for him?”_

_He’d stared at her with a blank, but scared expression. She could smell the blood rushing through his veins, and the heart beat pick up in a panic. His lies would be useless here, and she hoped he knew just how much of an open book he was to her. “Because me? I would die for Zarya. I would give my all if it meant keeping her alive, or keep her fighting for just that little bit longer. And if I, a heartless soulless vampire is willing to die for an angel, I have to wonder what a priest would be willing to do for a duke of Hell.” Mei looked at him, trying to catch his gaze but he was resisting her charms on him to lock eyes with her. A rare thing. Humans, especially human males, were so easy to puppet. But this one could fight it off, regardless how weak he was. “How about you, priest? Would you die for him?”_

Now those words echoed back at her and she hated her past self for saying them. Would you die for him? Is flying into Hell a means of suicide? And having seen that look on Zarya’s face, one of utter worry and concern it had broken her heart. She didn’t deserve to feel worry for the actions of one idiot; but was *she* the one responsible? Had her subtle digging at the weakness of a priest brought on the idea of going to Hell itself? God, how could she excuse that, much less explain it if it came up later? She hated this sense of self doubt eating away at her.

Meanwhile, Zarya was furious. She was mad at herself, mad at Kokabiel, mad at J’nkrhatt for pulling this kind of stunt, and lastly she was mad at those two humans who had injured the Duke enough to warrant them bringing him here in hopes of mending him. Just who were they? Where had they come from? Who’d tipped them off to go to that carnival? Perhaps it was just dumb luck, perhaps coincidence, but Zarya had been around for a long enough time to not believe in coincidences. Her brain buzzed as she lifted boulders and held ceilings up to allow extraction of bodies, and people, deep underground. If they had been sent there, tipped off, who had done it? Someone within the organisation? A spy? Or someone working on the other side?

“Demons?” she asked herself. Could they have taken disguise as two ordinary humans in order to attack the Duke? Write it off as simple humans responding to seeing a monster, but perhaps it could have been an orchestrated move to injure him, lure him here, and trigger the trap and stealing him back to Hell. She felt a shudder rush through her as she used her wings to clear away rubble, shrapnel and dust. The Duke was in Hell. Not a new thing of course, he had spent a thousand years trapped down there, but now he was not a welcomed one. He was kidnapped, dragged back. Was he being punished? Kokabiel... she would not put torture past him. And the idea of her dear Roh’Dhog being tortured by him made her blood boil hotter still. Could he survive it? Of course he could! How dare she doubt him! But it would be painful, he would suffer greatly even more so than he had here.

The mental image of him broken, bleeding, it flashed in her mind only tripled in scope and the angel almost dropped the ceiling she was supporting. 

“Lady Vaswani!”

She heard from below the uttering of that phrase and she felt relief touch on her worrying, fretting heart. She’d survived. Thank God in their Kingdom above for that. Only then did she see what she was being accompanied by and she felt her eyes double in size.

“Ah, angel.” Satya said as she was aided onto the same floor as her while the hulking, furry monster followed her like some overgrown guard dog. “I am glad to see you here. Do not ask about the werewolf; questions come later. I need to get her somewhere safe; would it be possible for you to transport us both to these coordinates?”

The wrist guard on her left hand holo projected a bunch of numbers for the angel to read. Zarya pulled her eyes from the creature to the words, and nodded her head. “It is a safe zone. I need to get Farheea somewhere safe before more people see her and try to hurt her. Only once I know she is safe and sound shall I ask to be brought here. And perhaps a pair of shoes. I feel quite naked without them.”

“Of course.” Zarya said as she, once again, looked to the creature.

Werewolf. She’d hunted many in the past. And she knew the records of how many had been slain by this very organisation but to think that one of the most important people here was one; just how had they kept it secret all these years? How had Fareeha not turned Satya, yet? Or killed anybody here? Too many questions, mixing them in together with the madness and fear that was gripping her before Zarya felt about ready to be sick. She wouldn’t, of course, angels could not throw up. 

“Thank you, Zarya.”

The words brought her out of her storming clouds of thoughts, and Zarya looked down upon Satya. Even with dirt and blood staining her skin and clothing, the woman still seemed to radiate a pure energy of cleanliness and discipline. 

“I know I do not say this enough to you. But your assistance here, it has been priceless. Now more than ever before. So I am thanking you. And I know once she is in control of herself again, Fareeha will offer you her gratitude as well.” she looked back at the werewolf who was sticking close but showing signs of agitation and anxiety. It was thanks to the tireless months of training by Satya that kept her from going absolutely crazy now, but even that control was beginning to wane. She could see it. The last thing these people needed was after a detonation was a werewolf spreading fear and panic. 

“You are welcome.” Zarya said, gently. “I will take you both there now. Then we will come back and help more. I can’t not help those in need, after all.”

“I know, angel.” Satya offered something that only a few could consider a smile. “It is one of your greatest atributes.”

_To be continued_


	19. War is Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gates of Hell have now opened and the journey to save the Duke has begun. Hell isn't everything you'd think it is, either.

The beautiful, gorgeous singing fills his ears amid the darkness. That song, the voice, as it carries through the void is a warm and familiar embrace despite the cold. It’s encroaching him with every passing second, the bitter cold that had him shivering all the way down to his very soul which burned hot regardless. He prayed the music wouldn’t end, that this warmth he felt would never fade, and if he could he would cling to it desperately like a needy newborn. 

It was his Duke’s singing. No other singing in this universe could bring him such joy, such comfort and happiness despite his situation.

In his mind he could almost feel those large, strong, and equally reliable arms wrap around him. He’s pulled in against a hairy chest, the singing growing louder still as the three heads focus all of their eyes upon him. The song continues, swelling his heart with utter devotion and adoration yet in spite of his willingness for that music to never end, and to remain held close in such loving arms, it began to draw away.

A wave of stars and swirling galaxies suddenly crash upon them like a wave upon a rock that dare to peek out from its depths. The singing is cut short, and the voice is snatched away, just like the arms which had turned from a loving caress to a desperate cling. Opening his mouth to shout he is overcome by the wave, feeling it rush into his mouth and begins to fill his lungs but before anything else can happen he’s jolted awake.

The echoes of the song in his dream cling desperately in his mind in clear defiance to the cold air which nips at his exposed skin. However, it’s not as bad as it could have been since not only is he out of the weather, but wrapped in a blanket by a burning fireside. J’nkrhatt blinks a few times, his dream melting faintly as its replaced with a sense of pain and confusion. Where was he? Was this Hell? Who had brought him here? 

The answer comes in the form of a demon standing across from him, his front illuminated by the burning fire and upon the wall behind him his shadow is distorted by the flickering flames. This stranger looks like something out of an old Western film, but only if all the cowboys were being played demons from the darkest, bleakest parts of Hell. A scruffy beard made of metallic copper feathers smother his sideburns, chin, and upper lip. Said lips were parted only just, allowing very sharp teeth to grip a barely lit cigar between them.

A tarnished, worn, well loved hat covers his head hiding the top of his head as well as his eyes from sight. Covering most of his body is a red, somewhat faded poncho which hides his arms, or any wings he may hold. His legs didn’t appear all too interesting, they looked like they’d be better off left on a bird of prey. Very long strong legs, talons that dug into the dirt with claws that shined like black coal. Looking back at the poncho, the fallen angel has to wonder that perhaps the clothing was his wings, only folded in an interesting way. Regardless, J’nkrhatt hadn’t seen a demon look so human like. When they were revealed above, they were little more than vague shapes with sharp teeth and glistening eyes. This one almost looked human.

Then he tilted his head back at last to reveal skin that was as black as knight, and three sets of eyes that stared down at him with a guarded, yet curious, expression in them. 

The two exist in an uncomfortable vacuum of silence until the stranger finally speaks.

“You ain’t from round here, are you?”

Not only did he look like a cowboy out of Hell but he sounded like it too. As if he’d been found dropped on the floor of a saloon in the Wild West, drenched in the contents of a spittoon and then rolled around in the dust and filth of a ranch. If he wasn’t partly disoriented, J’nkrhatt would swore he’d even heard a twang of a distant harmonica as the demon spoke.

“What gave that away?” J’nkrhatt asked, grinning toothily.

“Well the way’n which you fell from the sky like that. Big ole’ flash of light. Almost heavenly.”

He laughed at that, before wincing. The throbbing pain wasn’t going away. He shifted beneath the blanket and his eyes suddenly open upon a realisation that struck him like a sucker punch to the gutt. Scrambling in the blanket he throws it back, and looks down to see his right arm was missing. His hand, all the way up to his mid forearm, was gone. Now nothing but a stump remained, a painful memory of an arm which had been there once. 

“I’m figurin’ that ain’t normal.” the stranger commented.

“Guess I ain’t all right now. I’m all left.” J’nkrhatt replied, eyes on his stump as he brings his left hand up to touch at it. He swore he could still feel his hand there, but it was nothing short but a lie. He’d used too much of his grace to get in here and it had cost him; but it wasn’t reforming. He was still an angel, even a fallen one was capable of healing themselves if they took hard damage. Yet his arm wasn’t regrowing anything; it was gone. 

That joke got a snort from the demon as it bent those legs and settled on the ground, the poncho covering only enough of those legs that his talons were left visible. “What’s your name, stranger?”

“Uh?”

“Well, gotta know the name of the fella who saved my life.”

He’d saved his life? He had no memory of anything after the explosion. There was one big fat section of ‘file not found’ in his mind so whatever it was he’d done for this demon, it clearly had meant a lot. J’nkrhatt was about to hold his right hand out to him; it was instinct to shake someone’s hand, even a demon, but he was lacking that hand so he just sat there. “Name’s J’nkrhatt!” he replied, as he saw no reason in lying. Demons, from what he knew, weren’t liars really they just omitted a few truths. Angels did the exact same thing, after all.

“Well howdy J’nkrhatt.” the demon tilted his hat in greeting with an arm that had been hidden up until now, while all six eyes blinked in unison with one another. “You can call me McCree.”

“That your real name?” 

“Nope!” the demon smiles again, showing off his sharp teeth. “But it’s one I done picked for meself, so it suits me just fine.”

“Huh.”

He watches as McCree, this combination of demon and Wild West aesthetics got himself more comfortable across from the fire, tugging that red poncho closer around himself. Those feathers that worked as a beard shifted, ruffling a little, before he reached a hand up and plucked the cigar from his mouth to puff out a cloud of purple smoke. “So you got banished down here, huh?”

“No.” was the honest answer as J’nkrhatt wrapped his black, ruffled feathers around himself beneath the blanket he had, trying to stave off the cold more. 

McCree looked genuinely confused and gave his head an almost comical tilt. “What, y’all came down here of your own violation?” he asked.

“More or less.”

“Man, there’s better ways to commit suicide, kid!”

“Nah mate,” J’nkrhatt said as he leaned forward, closer to the fire. “On a mission. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me.”

The demonic cowboy looked interested, and tilted his head curiously to the side. “Well now, that sounds like one Helluva adventure you got in the works.”

“Dunno. Maybe. Ain’t really started it yet,” he leans forward a little as he closed his left hand around his right arm stump. His abrashed, all but crazed view of his existence and life was now being questioned. Doubt was a new thing. Fear was an entirely new one too. Why wasn’t his wound mending? His arm should be forming itself anew by now, for any serious injury he’d experienced back when he was Whole would mend. But now it wasn’t. Was this further punishment for his blight against God? Hadn’t he suffered long enough? “But I got a place I need to be, can’t be wastin’ it waiting out a storm.”

McCree laughed. “Buddy, listen. There ain’t no such thing as waitin’ out a storm down here. These snow storms last for days sometimes, but we still gotta do our part while it happens.”

J’nkrhatt blinked, the curious one now. “Do your part?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

That was cryptic.

“So where in Hell are you tryin’ ta get to?” McCree asked.

“House of Kokabiel in the sixth circle.”

McCree scoffed and leaned back, going to so far as slap a hand against one of his bird like legs. “Hoo! You’re in for a wild ride, pard’ner. We ain’t anywhere near the sixth circle!”

“We’re not?” he asked, disappointed. He’d hoped that he would land right on the doorstep of that star chewing asshole and tear him a new black hole in his ugly, skeletal face.

“Nope.” McCree got to his feet, the thick black talons digging into the stone beneath them. “We’re in the second circle right now. Got quite a journey ahead of you if you wanna make it to eight, and that won’t be easy to traverse on account of what goes on down here.”

Seeing the other get to his feet, J’nkrhatt got to his feet as well. “On account of...”

“Just follow me. Don’t gotta go far.”

They exited the safety of the cave and the cold, harsh wind struck the two like a slap to the face. No wonder McCree got around wearing that poncho, no doubt it kept the cold out. As he walks into the snow he recalled what the Duke had said so many moons ago. That his body was always so warm because Hell was freezing cold. He’d wished he was so warm blooded.

Making their way down the mountain side was fairly easy, he used his wings for extra balance but every so often a sudden gust of wind threatened to make him take air against his wishes. Somehow throughout all this McCree didn’t lose his hat. Maybe some kind of demon magic was at work here.

“So what’re we looking for?” he asked above the wailing sounds of the wind.

“That!” McCree shouted over the harsh gust. He stretched out an arm to point out a location in the distance. 

They’d reached a small cliffside, below them a scene came into view as the swirling snowy wind finally began to clear if only for a moment. What he saw was utter chaos. A battlefield. Demons of various sizes and strength were clashing and it was impossible to tell which side was which. The ground was stained with black blood and twisted bodies lay dormant, unmoving, dead. The air was filled with the sounds of battle, screams, screeches, the sound of flesh being ripped and torn apart, the dying thrones of how many demons meeting their end here in the snow at the foot of a mountain range. 

And the stench. It was unlike any smell that he’d experienced before. The bodies of thousands of demons clashing, sweating, bleeding, the stink of rotting bodies that remained unclaimed on the dirty, filth covered ground was so overwhelming if his constitution wasn’t so high he would have passed out from the smell alone. And from what he could see, from here, was just how far the battlefield stretched. It wounded around nearby hills, dipped down into valleys, and just seemed as though it had no physical end.

A demon, far larger than others, suddenly stands up amongst the craziness. It looks like an egg, almost. But this egg is laying on its side, it has long, stick like legs that seem as though barely capable of holding up its immense weight. Tiny hands grasp, but they’re only small and strong enough to grab at its opening mouth which it pulls open. Far wider than it probably should, and the eyeless beast plunges itself face down into the swarming mass of wriggling, fighting demons. When it pulls up, standing to its full height again, numerous demongs cling and dangle from its mouth, now full of its brethren. It swallows them whole as it moves through the battle, stepping over the fight as if it didn’t matter to it, only to pull its mouth wide all over again after a few steps to eat again.

This walking lunch during a battle is cut short when a larger, winged demon swoops out from the darkened sky. Its clutching hands grab the feasting, egg shaped demon making it drop its current load of food. J’nkrhatt watches as the winged demon breaks off one of the towering titan’s leg, and it drops like a stone back into the battlefield and it crushes numerous demons beneath. More blood. More bodies. All while a screaming beast is torn apart and flying away from a battle it probably had little to no interest in, beyond getting something to eat.

In the distance, a darkening cloud gives a thunderous clap of lightning that lights up the battlefield. Casting shadows, illuminating every wriggling, suffering body on a battlefield. He can’t make out the bodies. A part of him doesn’t want to. Yet he doesn’t look away, not yet. It’s almost as if he’s being hypnotized by the massive war, cementing him in place in shock and awe. Never had he seen something like this before.

He stood alongside McCree in stunned silence as the fighting continued, no end in sight, until he finally tore his eyes away from the battle to look at the other. 

“War is Hell.” McCree said as he plucked the cigar from his mouth, and spat. “And Hell is War.”

“How long-”

“Oh, for eons now.” he replied, “But it’s gotten worse lately. Every circle’s turned on one another and it’s a bloody battlefield now. Fightin’ for control over each others sections, those Lords of Hell are doin’. Trying to make themselves look real big ‘n fancy cuz, well.” he fell quiet now, and lowered his hat. “End times comin’ fast.”

“End times.” J’nkrhatt echoed the phrase, not liking the sounds of it.

“Right, y’all wouldn’t know about it would ya?” McCree scoffed. “Boy howdy you’ll love this.” he leaned over, and wrapped his visible arm around the shoulders of the hyena-headed fallen one. “Y’all know Lucifer, right? Satan? Morning Star? The Serpent, the Roaring Lion, and Dragon?”

“Who doesn’t?” he asked, flatly.

“Well ole’ Beelzebub is breakin’ outta his prison.”

Now all of the blood in J’nkrhatt run cold instantly.

“Yep. Wicked One’s breakin’ outta that frozen lake and the Lords of Hell wanna look all fancy like when it does, and you’re only fancy by how many circles you run. They want power and land so this is how they get it. War. Ain’t it Hell?”

J’nkrhatt gave a nervous laugh at this news, which evolved into a hysterical, terrified laughter as he stood here in the depths of Hell learning that the End of Days were upon them. When God and Lucifer had fought so fiercely all those eons ago, they had almost torn the all of existence in twain. Countless angels had died in the crossfire, which only fuelled God’s anger more. Planets had cracked, whole universes fell into nothing, and worse still God had lost one of their eyes in the process. But finally, when it seemed like all was lost, God found the strength through those that had fallen to punish Lucifer.

Yet instead of killing their most favourite angel, God had trapped them. They’d created an entire reality to seal away that burning anger, encasing Lucifer in a frozen lake cutting them off from absolutely everyone and everything. At least, that had been the dream. In an ideal world, Satan would be lost forever in a pocket dimension but nothing was ever easy. Their words had stained angels in God’s good grace, who turned on God as well and they were thusly sent to the same reality.

And God had stated if Lucifer ever was to emerge from that lake, to reclaim their hatred, it may well be the end of Everything.

Which only made his want to find the Duke, and save him, all the more powerful. Their time together was now even more fleeting than it was before he was trapped in a human vessel, and before the Duke had been stolen by the very one who had lured them to such an act of terrorism and cruelty against humanity a thousand years ago.

“Well!” J’nkrhatt opened his wings out and moved away from McCree, “Want to point me in the direction of Kokabiel’s house, mate? I need to get there ‘n blow his face off before we all die in the flames ‘n fire that ole’ Satan’s gonna make.”

McCree blinked a little. “Oh well that’s easy. Cuz I’m comin’.”

He looked confused. “Wuh?”

“You saved my hide back there, pardner.” McCree said, “And I got no want to fight in this war for nothin’. I’m comin’ with you to make sure you make it there, least in one piece.”

“Either way mate, wanna point me in the direction?”

He did, but when he tried taking off, he found his wings incapable of carrying his weight. He landed, almost comically, on his ass after a first attempt. J’nkrhatt sat there, feathers more ruffled than usual, before standing up and tried again. Yet once more he found his wings folding up beneath his weight and what would be a normally early take off resulted in him ending up face flat on the ground. Undeterred, he tried again. And again. And once more.

This went on for a while before he looked to McCree, expression that of fear. He couldn’t fly. First his arm, now his wings. What was happening?

“Well that’s odd.” the cowboy said. “Them wings of yours ain’t broken are they?”

Didn’t feel like it.

“Can’t explain it partner.” shrugged the demon. “Guess we’re walkin’.”

“Walking. Through Hell.” J’nkrhatt said before standing up right, clenching his left fist. “Fuckin’ ACES!”

McCree laughed. He liked this guy’s fire. Still had to wonder why there wasn’t a welcoming party when he’d fallen; then again maybe on account of the War going on perhaps the welcoming committee had disbanded to focus on other things. He was adjusting to news that had terrified him to the point of wetting his feathers relatively well too. Or maybe he was just down right insane.

What had he just signed up for?

The two moved away from the battlefield, choosing to travel along the mountain range in the direction McCree stated was the right one. Apparently it was easy to get lost in Hell if you didn’t know where you were going, and the bird like demon cowboy seemed to have a fairly strong grasp of where he was and where he was heading. 

“So--Junkrat, was it?”

“J’nkrhatt.”

“J’nkrhatt,” McCree corrected himself. “Just what’re you after in Kokabiel’s house? Y’all mentioned blowing up his face and while I’m all for a Lord of Hell havin’ his face obliterated, what’s your reasonings?”

The hyena smiled a wide, toothy grin. “He’s got someone’ of mine I want back. He took him when he had no right to.”

“Oh?” now he really was curious. A rescue mission against a Lord of Hell who, from what the latest reports had stated, now had two circles underneath him. Not an easy task at all.

“Mmhm. Maybe you heard of him,” the toothy grin became more of a smug, smirking one. “Duke Roh’Dhog.”

McCree came to a stop mid stride along the mountain and turned his head to look at J’nkrhatt, the metallic feathers that made up his beard seemed to be entirely ruffled by this news. His eyes, all six, made no effort to change the genuine shock and hint of fear in them. “Duke Roh’Dhog? THE Duke Roh’Dhog?” he asked. “The one who’s eaten countless souls of the damned? He who commands his armies like a ruthless tyrant? Duke Roh’Dhog who’s sacrificed his own generals to get what he wants?”

J’nkrhatt stood there for a second before nodding his head once. “The one ‘n the same.”

The cowboy looked apprehensive now. He’d never come up against the Duke himself, but the stories of him was notorious. Insanely loyal to Kokabiel he had to wonder just what made a Duke who had it All throw all of it away. 

Meanwhile J’nkrhatt was besides himself in both awe, intimidation, and genuine shock. His Duke, HIS Duke was a renown cruel demon who commanded armies under his reign for Kokabiel. He showed no sympathy. No kindness. Nothing that would reflect at all with how he treated him. To imagine, hands that had no doubt walked lesser demons to their deaths had held him so gently and tenderly. That a man who’d changed to adjust to his role in Hell, could still be so warm, and full of adoration and love.

It made him fall in love for him even harder.

“So lemme lay our cards out on the table.” McCree begun walking once more, “We’re gonna ride on into the sixth circle of Hell, to the House of the Fallen Kokabiel in order to rescue his Duke Roh’Dhog who’s got the blood of countless demons on his hands.” 

“Simple! Genius!” J’nkrhatt gushed, placing his hand to his chest, fluffing up some of his fur. “He’ll be so thrilled.”

“That ain’t the word I was thinkin’.” 

“Bah.” J’nkrhatt waved his hand in a shoo motion. “Don’t worry mate, it’ll work out fine in the end. Only way from here is up, after all!”

Speaking of, he glanced skywards. For while he’d been engrossed by the ongoing battle he’d been shown before, he had noticed how dark the sky was. Now, with a clearer view while not being distracted by a horrible war, he noticed there was no stars in the sky. There was no sign of a moon, a sun, nothing even remotely like the skies he saw on Earth, or even in Heaven. Just... bleak darkness. If he squinted enough, he could maybe make out the formation of rocks but he couldn’t be sure without flying up to see, and right now he couldn’t fly for some reason or another.

His train of thought returned to his useless wings and he reached his one good hand down to feel along the structure of his wing. No bones were broken, the muscles were still there, and his ruffled feathers were no different to how they normally were. Was this because he hadn’t used them properly in a thousand years? Using them to reach England from India, had that been all the power that was left in them? Maybe a good long rest would be the answer to his problem, as once he could take flight again he could reach his destination far sooner.

But is it safe to sleep in Hell? He’d been watched over by McCree, but would he do it again? Did he need sleep? He was sure every time that Jamison and the Duke had shared a bed together, the demon from Hell hadn’t really slept. Sure, his human had slept like the dead every night especially those after which the two were physically intimate, bridging the gap between himself and his Roh’Dhog more every single time, but had he slept?

There were so many questions he’d never asked him, and he felt a hint of shame. He didn’t enjoy that feeling.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” McCree asked, breaking his concentration and bringing him back to Hell.

“The stars are beautiful.” J’nkrhatt teased.

His compatriot laughed, snorting after he’d finished, and gave his head a shake. “Y’know, funny. I ain’t never seen the sky before.”

“Never been to Earth?”

“Nah. Not allowed!” McCree replied, “I was born into my lot in life ‘n I took it. Plenty of us want to see the stars, sky, clouds, the sun ‘n the moon... but plenty more of us will die without ever dreaming of them.” he looked grim, as one would expect at such a subject. 

“What was your lot in life, mate?” J’nkrhatt asked, tilting one of his ears against his head.

“War.” was the simple answer. “Plain ‘n simple. Punishment for the crimes of a mother, ain’t nothin’ more or less to be said ‘bout it.”

Now that was interesting. This guy had layers, like a demonic, western onion. J’nkrhatt highly doubted the cowboy would peel them all back immediately for him, what decent demon would, but he made a point to maybe gently pry about it later on. He’d never known a demon like this before. Every demon he’d come in contact with before was a raging, wild, blood seeking beast that seemed to be born to do nothing but cause destruction, chaos, and death. Those who teased and played cruel games with the living; and it wasn’t like they were doing it to win their souls. There were no human souls in Hell, just like there weren’t any in Heaven either. So why were they doing it? Who allowed access to Earth in the first place?

There were so many questions, it felt like a bee hive swarming with questions and each one was colliding with one another and the inside walls of his brain. It was giving him a headache. 

Clarity came when he thought of the Duke. 

How he’d looked, that last second Jamison had seen him. Injured, beaten, bleeding... being grabbed like someone’s toy. Kokabiel may be a Lord of Hell but what right on Earth did he have to grab the Duke like that? And now he was at his mercy, undergoing what type of treatment. The thought had J’nkrhatt’s blood boil, and he felt the coolness of the surrounding area all but melt away in fear of his anger. 

“Whoa. Is that normal?”

McCree, once more, drew him from his emotions and mind and he turned his head to look at the other. He was looking down at his arm, or more importantly, his right arm. J’nkrhatt looked down at his arm and was brought to a stand still at what was happening to his right arm. From the stump downwards, something was happening. Pure white mist seemed to be emitting from the stump of flesh, but instead of forming something solid, it remained see through, taking a slow shape that resembled his now missing hand. Like an ever shifting, breathing shell made of white smoke. It had built everything up to his fingertips, and he slowly turned his hand over in silent awe. But just as he was getting used to the look of it, the arm began to disperse. It faded from view, as if snuffed out by a gust of wind.

“...figurin’ it ain’t normal?” McCree asked as he observed the disappointing expression of the hyena.

“Normally I have both arms.” J’nkrhatt explained quietly, frowning at his arm stump with disdain. “Guess gettin’ in here cost me my good one.”

“Hope it wasn’t your pleasure hand, s’all I’m sayin!” he laughed, titulated by his own joke so much he was chuckling to himself as he started walking again. 

He gave a roll of his eyes, and J’nkrhatt fell into step behind him. The wind was a constant battering against his wings and fur, and the naked skin felt like it had a thousand pins and needles riddling it with every gust of wind. Maybe he should look into getting a poncho too. Something to keep the wind off of his body as his wings, no matter how impressively ruffly they looked, weren’t that good for blocking out the cold. Useless things they were now. Couldn’t even fly. So he was without an arm, without his wings, and as he wrapped his tail around his middle he had to wonder what else Hell would rob from him.

Didn’t matter. He’d just steal it right back. Nobody took what was his; not Kokabiel, not Hell, not even God themself. And Satan? Well he better watch out too or he’d kick his ass right back into that frozen lake where he belonged. 

He himself didn’t belong here. The Duke didn’t either. Their crime and punishment had played out; they shouldn’t still be battling to be together only after finally finding one another again after a thousand years apart. If this was still part of their punishment, if being in Hell as Satan himself is breaking out of his icy prison, then God really pushed it on the punishment side of things. How much payment was enough, in their eyes? Well. Eye.

Stupid one eyed God.

“...how many circles away are we?” he asked, after a brief moment of silence between the two, interrupted only by the sounds of the wind.

“We’re in two.” McCree answered, “‘N we gotta make our way to six. Passin through the normal way would take us a while, but I figure I know myself a few shortcuts.” he offered up a cocksure grin.

“Been through them a lot?” 

“Not at all. But I got connections.”

Oh now that filled him with a sense of ease. A guide who didn’t actually know where he was going. But that was better than nothing, right? Better to have someone who partly knew a way there next to nobody. Even if he couldn’t remember what he’d done to ensure this demon was on his side, at least for the time being, he was glad he’d done it. Whatever it was. 

“Better than nothin’!” J’nkrhatt replied in as much of an optimistic tone as he was capable of.

Seemed to work, as McCree seemed quite pleased by that reaction. Maybe he’d expected the worst from him. Were there others, like him?

Those like him who were more conscious as creatures, and not just slobbering agents of chaos? 

_To be continued_


End file.
